The Seneca Missions
by Tafar
Summary: While the Enterprise still traversed the universe during her Five Year Mission, another Federation ship had her own stories to tell. This is the USS Seneca and her intrepid crew of peacekeepers. Warnings for: Violence, Homosexuality, Language and Death.
1. The Spider's Lair

The Seneca Voyages  
Episode One: The Spider's Lair  
Rating: PG-13

~***~

The Constitution class Federation vessel, the USS Seneca, cut gracefully through the stars at an almost leisurely Warp 5. The crew of the Seneca was allowing themselves the breath of fresh air that they so richly deserved after their most recent mission of diplomacy at the edge of debated Klingon territory. True, they were no Enterprise and they never quite endured the rough-and-tumble style of exploration that Captain Kirk regularly indulged in, but then again, so few were. In the end, the Seneca had been commissioned as one thing and one thing only…a glorified bodyguard vessel for whatever ambassador or diplomat they happened to be ferrying at the time. Missions aboard the Seneca ranged anywhere from painfully boring to hair-raisingly tense at a moment's notice and rarely with little warning. Captain Joseph Hart wasn't going to complain about a wee snip of downtime. After all, his body still needed time to recover from all the adrenaline that had been forced through it in the past week.

Hart himself was a formidable man, a creature of sleek muscles. He was a true proud American, always surveying the stars with jaw squared and laughing black eyes the color of space itself. He cut quite the figure sitting there in the captain's chair, back ramrod straight, legs folded neatly over one another and fingers steepled just beneath the roman line of his nose. Joseph Hart was a true man of the north, honest and unshakeable in the face of almost certain danger. Truly, was there a man more suited for the Captain's seat in the oft-uncertain realm of diplomacy? His crew did not think so…although currently they had a few opinions concerning his style of command…mostly that he was doing too much of it and too little of the necessary life functions.

Joseph had neglected himself since almost the beginning of the tense mission, content to run the ship from the Bridge, never giving over the Conn. The ship's loyal doctor had decided that it was time to give their dedicated captain a bit of an intervention.

Carefully, the tall, blonde Amazon of a woman approached the right hand of his chair with far more delicacy than a female of her stature should have been able to manage. With the light touch of a kitten, she laid her long-fingered hand against his arm, relieved when he didn't jump. She put a gentle smile on her face, pearl pink lips curling up to reveal a row of perfect white teeth.

"Joseph…it's time to get some sleep. You've been at the Bridge for 72 hours straight, sir," She ventured.

Joseph looked up at her with his drowsy panther eyes and sighed, his chin slipping below the plane of his hands, "Has it been that long, Zoe? I suppose that I hadn't noticed. The rest of the crew…?"

"Are already on full rotation shifts, Joseph. Come on now. Get yourself a bath and some rest," Zoe intoned with a level of warmth that was impossible to fake.

Joseph's eyes swept the Bridge once more, looking carefully for his most trusted crewmen. He discovered that half of them had indeed already rotated out. It seemed that the only one of his usual staff remaining were T'Jenn (who sat loyally at her communications console), Helmsman Wolfram and his counterpart Helmsman Adair. His First Officer, Engineer and dedicated Scientist had already slipped away. Zoe had probably already gotten to them and sent them away while he was more pre-occupied with the view screen or any other of the million micro-emergencies he convinced himself existed. Realizing that he was practically alone (excusing the miniature herd of yeomen who still bustled about), Joseph levered himself up out the captain's chair and stretched the small of his back. He dared a small yawn.

He flashed his medical officer a low smile, "Alright, Zoe. I'm going. How much sleep has Aaron had?"

"First Officer Hill? He's just about ready to return to the Bridge. I tried to coordinate his break with yours, sir," the blonde doctor said.

"Brilliant as always, Zoe. Lieutenant T'Jenn!" Joseph called to the Communications Centre.

The Vulcan woman he had spoken to straightened up even more (if such a thing was possible considering her already stiff posture) and turned to regard their captain with a clipped, precise, "Aye, sir."

"Contact First Officer Hill and see to it that he returns to the Bridge as soon as possible. Double Time, if necessary," Joseph replied smartly, softening the snap of his command with a smile that lingered around his dark eyes.

T'Jenn nodded, her plaited pigtails shifting against the small of her back as she did, "Aye, Sir."

The prim Vulcan woman flipped her earpiece around and clicked a switch on her array, speaking in her abrupt way, "Commander Hill, report to the Bridge. Commander Hill, report to the Bridge."

There was a brief pause before the speaker buzzed to life, "Acknowledged. Reporting, fair maiden!"

Joseph had to stifle a low snort of amusement as T'Jenn's elegant eyebrow shot nearly into her hairline. It never failed. Aaron simply couldn't address the woman without trying to get under her skin somehow. Pet names and random come-ons were relatively normal during their interactions, no matter how hard the Communications Officer discouraged them. For an un-emotional woman, T'Jenn could be pretty firm about decorum, especially when on the bridge. Joseph didn't even want to imagine the look on her face if she were to find out about Commander Hill's private little betting pool on how long it took before she lost her temper. He didn't want to imagine it at all.

The Captain shook his head at the antics of his at-ease crew before striding over to the door and listening to the pneumatic hiss of it, walking through to the lift. He almost ran into one of his science officers, grinning when he recognized Len.

Len was a tallish youth of almost no muscle mass to speak of. He was sleek looking, almost like a cat, but there was absolutely nothing imposing about him. He was slender with delicate hands and huge, brown eyes that stared out from under the edge of a knitted wool cap pulled down tight over his ears. His face was framed by chin-length, thick black hair that slipped out from beneath his cap. He was one of the Captain's closest friends and always a delight to see, even when you were about to run headlong into him as he hurried out of the lift. Joseph caught him by the shoulders.

"Joe! Are you finally getting some sleep?" Len asked, his whole face seeming to light up.

"Yeah. Zoe came and made me leave the Bridge. Aaron is going to be taking over for a few hours. You?"

The smaller man had the good grace to look sheepish, "Ah…no. I had to run scans of the crew for foreign viral infections. I've been in the biopsy lab for a few hours, sir."

"Try seventy-two hours, Len," Joseph teased.

"Oh…I guess I'll have to log those in once I've gotten these Padds to the Bridge. Hey…T'Jenn isn't working Communications right now is she?" Len asked. The boy never seemed to tire.

Joseph shot a smirk at his friend, "I'm afraid that she is."

"Shit," Len hissed, almost cringing.

"Don't worry so much, Len. She's Vulcan. It's not like she can actually hate you. She just…doesn't approve of you, I guess," the Captain said, standing in the lift while Len shifted out.

Len gave him a comically ominous look, "Oh Vulcan's can hate, Joe. They can hate a lot. The tricky part is that they don't SHOW it."

Joseph chuckled as the door to the lift hissed shut again. He reached out and twisted the start Lever, asking for the floor with the Officer quarters so he could finally hit the hay. Nothing had actually come to blows with the Klingons this time, but debating with the recalcitrant menaces was almost as bad as actually fighting them. It was just as tiring anyway. The Captain hadn't ever been happier to see his bed.

While the Captain of the Seneca nested down to get some well-deserved rest, the unfortunate Len continued on his path towards the Bridge, delicately avoiding a female ensign who didn't quite seem to have the mental capacity to watch where she was going. It was a little quirk peculiar to the Xenovirologist, the distaste of touch. Oh, naturally one was going to get touched from time to time on a crowded starship, but Len seemed to have cultivated special techniques to avoid it whenever possible. Padd in hand, he strode out onto the Bridge, looking over to the most dreaded station of all…Communications. Oh how he absolutely loathed working with their alien crewman sometimes. She seemed to delight (in her own subtle Vulcan way) in deliberately finding ways to make their interactions like pulling teeth.

For some reason that anyone who noticed couldn't understand, T'Jenn's bizarre penchant for torment extended to Len and Len only. Naturally, she was a decent Vulcan woman and so her idiosyncrasies were never allowed to get in the way of the ship's smooth operation, but there was still something…different about how she treated the ship's resident Xenovirologist. To anyone else, she was cool, distant, neutral…everything one expected from a lady of her venerable race. For Len though…for Len the room always seemed to get a few degrees cooler and she always had an unhealthy doubt for his scientific findings or some new level of red tape he had to wade through. For whatever reason, T'Jenn didn't seem to respect Len and so made it quite an exercise for him whenever the two were forced to interact.

Unfortunately, this seemed to be one of those times.

"T'Jenn, how many days out from Starfleet Command are we?" Len inquired as he walked up to her station.

The Vulcan woman didn't turn away from her post, "I believe it would be more logical for you to inquire with Helmsman Wolfram about our heading."

The scientist took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Under normal circumstances, yes it would be. However, I need to speak with you as well and I know that you are privy to our heading so it seems superfluous that I should go across the Bridge to speak to Helmsman Wolfram and then all the way back over to your station to talk to you."

Finally, the Communications officer turned around in her chair to face him, their brown eyes locking in a battle of wills. Her earpiece was rotated away from her mouth again and her arms were folded neatly in her lap as she considered her opponent. Len felt his stomach drop, realizing that his attempts to side-step an argument with the woman might have very well 'thrown down the gauntlet' so to speak. He tensed a little bit, more than just a little bit surprised when she spoke again.

"We will be, in the next five minutes, four days away from Earth and Starfleet Command if we continue moving at Warp 5."

Len checked his sigh of relief, "Do we have an open frequency with them yet?"

"Affirmative," T'Jenn replied as fast as possible without making it seem at all graceless.

"Good. Please notify them that medical has run scans on the entire crew and we report no signs of biological sabotage or communicable disease. No quarantine will be necessary upon return to base," Len said, handing over the PADD with the full report in it.

His temper had to be sharply restrained when he noticed that T'Jenn, instead of opening up a frequency, took a moment to read over his report in a manner that was a little more than cursory. Len blew air out from his nose and folded his arms, "Is something wrong, Lieutenant?"

"I do not know yet. That is why I am reading the report," the Vulcan said without even the smallest hint of apology in her deadpan tone.

Len gave the top of her head a withering, defeated look before he just conceded the point, "Right. Well, when you're done with that, open a channel, please?"

"Provided that there are no errors, I shall," T'Jenn replied smartly.

The scientist took a deep breath and forced himself to relax, realizing that it was the closest thing to cooperation he was going to get out of the woman. T'Jenn rarely budged on a decision after it was made, especially when it concerned one of Len's requests. She was the sort to cut straight to the logic of a matter even without voicing that she had done so and once she DID find the most logical way of going about things it was impossible to sway her. Such was the way of the Vulcan people and such was the way of T'Jenn. She had her good qualities too, for the most part. She was just as loyal as any other officer on this ship and her dedication almost outshined the captain's on occasion. Almost.

Still, Len would have greatly enjoyed if she was just a little bit less…well…Vulcan.

"I'm going back to Sickbay," Len sighed to himself, "At least it's safe there."

He tugged his cap down a little bit and straightened the front of his Science blues as he walked back towards the lift. Len vaguely heard Commander Hill fighting down a bemused snort after witnessing the scene between the two and it brought a little bit of Len's good cheer back. Sometimes their womanizing First Officer left the young Xenovirologist utterly baffled, but more often-than-not it was nice to have his devil-may-care personality floating around the Bridge. It certainly made things feel a little bit less tense, anyway. Who knew? Maybe by the time Len had made his way back down to the deck, Commander Hill might have done something to direct T'Jenn's less than savory attentions. He loved to try and get her riled if such a thing could be done.

All it took was a short ride in the lift before he was back on familiar territory, headed towards the Sickbay and the comfort of his cozy little lab.

~***~

In the confines of the USS Seneca, the hours drifted by, measured in the continuous murmur of computers and the tap-tap of polished boots. The ship powered along diligently, manned by hundreds of dedicated and learned hands. At the Bridge, T'Jenn's keen, sharp eyes poured over Len's report for what had to be the hundredth time that hour. She ticked down the PADD over and over, searching meticulously for errors that didn't seem to be present. Every so often, she would reach out with one hand to keep her station in line, but it seemed that ninety percent of her attention was focused on the words and numbers in front of her. She seemed to be made completely out of stone, save for the lone eyebrow that would rise up every once in awhile.

"Lieutenant, sometimes it is painful to watch you," Commander Hill sighed from the Captain's chair.

"To what are you referring?" the female Vulcan countered.

The large, tanned human rolled his shoulders and his eyes, "I'm referring to the fact that I've been sitting here watching you for no less than an hour as you've tried to find SOME reason to pick apart Lieutenant Commander Len's work.

Her eyebrows arched a little higher, "You are suggesting that I should send in an unexamined and possibly incomplete report concerning this vessel's medical records?"

"Lieutenant, the report isn't incomplete. If it were, you wouldn't have been sitting there for an hour," Hill drawled.

"Careful analysis is never unreasonable," the Vulcan replied with that same infuriating neutrality to her tone.

"You're nit-picking, lieutenant."

"I am afraid that I do not understand this colloquialism."

"The report is fine. Just open a hailing frequency with Starfleet Command, would you?"

"Commander?" A lovely, thick voice cut smoothly through their argument like a fine blade slicing through a stream.

Aaron Hill turned the chair to regard Helmsman Leila Adair. She was a whip-thin woman, rich brown in color and serene in expression. Her hair was as black as T'Jenn's but she kept it far shorter, trimmed up around her small ears. She wore petite, wooden gauged plugs in her lobes and a small stud flashed briefly in the side of her nose. Her eyes were bright hazel with lashes so lush that her eyes appeared to be ringed with kohl. It gave her a very intense look and only served to enhance the concern that was written across her features at the moment.

Aaron seemed to straighten up a bit, "Lieutenant, what is it?"

"Sir, we seem to be detecting something in our immediate area. Mass would suggest a crippled space craft. No forward momentum indicated," the woman replied, turning back to her scanners.

Lieutenant T'Jenn's station whirred to life and she turned, forgetting the PADD for the time being, "Sir, I've opened a hailing frequency and we are receiving distress calls."

"Lieutenant Adair, continue running scanners. I want to see if we can't get a more precise reading on that ship. Display forward screens. Lieutenant Wolfram, drop us out of warp and try to pull alongside. Override that order if Lieutenants Adair or T'Jenn catch a whiff of hostility off of that thing," Aaron snapped out orders easily, his New Orleans drawl making them roll. He flipped a switch on the arm of the control chair, "Captain Hart to the Bridge. We've got company."

A voice echoed out from the speaker, "Acknowledged and on my way, Mr. Hill. Hart, out."

Aaron nodded, slipping out of the chair and striding over to the helm, looking over the stations, "Anything yet, Adair?"

"It's just a freighter, sir, and a mangled one at that. Take a look at the screen," Leila commented, pointing up at the screen that dominated the forward wall of any Constitution class star ship.

Up on the screen there was indeed a crippled freighter floating helpless in the vast nothing of space. She was severely burned and pock-marked, perhaps the victim of a crossfire or perhaps a pirate raid. With hostilities so volatile in this region of space, either one of the possibilities was a reasonable assumption, especially since this thing didn't look any more important than a basic supply ship. Pirates, then. Aaron's eyes scanned the screen intently, almost trying to divine an entire story just from the pictures in front of him. He hummed low in his throat, a tuneless sound of thought.

"Lieutenant Adair…T'Jenn…is this thing a threat?" Aaron asked, rubbing a hand over his scruff.

"Sensors aren't indicating anything serious, sir," T'Jenn replied, drifting from Communications over to the Science Officer's station.

"Continue on course, Mr. Wolfram," Aaron said, turning as Captain Joseph Hart walked at a fast clip through the doors and towards the command chair, tugging at the front of his yellow uniform shirt. It seemed that he had dressed in a hurry.

Hart settled into the chair, legs folded, leaning forward intently, "Commander Hill, tell me what we know."

"We're pulling up alongside what looks like a crippled freighter, Joe. We've been getting distress calls since it hit our sensors and T'Jenn doesn't detect anything out of the ordinary. Looks like a routine search and rescue mission to me, Cap," Aaron said, standing behind the chair.

"That remains to be seen. T'Jenn, have our damsels in distress identified themselves?"

"Negative, Captain. The distress call seems to be on an automated rotation. It is possible that it was activated by crewmen who are either dead or too incapacitated to respond to us now," the Vulcan woman responded, gravitating between two stations with ease.

Joseph steepled his fingers and leaned his head back a little, scrutinizing the screen, "We'll make this easy then, shall we? Lock on alongside, Mr. Wolfram. Mr. Hill, assemble a rescue party. There's no need to utilize the Transporter for this, especially if we're going to have to pull out fast. Put the ship on a low priority alert. I'll be going down, so Mr. Hill, you have the Conn."

"Aye, sir," Aaron replied, "Anyone you want for the Rescue Party?"

"Medical staff and for god's sake, make sure they know how to handle a phaser," Hart sighed, half-remembering a disastrous situation a year or two past.

"Permission to accompany, Captain?" T'Jenn said, standing sharply, "I believe it would be logical. I am standing Science Officer, sir."

Hart nodded, "Permission granted, Lieutenant. Report to the Portside Airlock. We'll be taking the gangway. Get three Security Officers to accompany. We'll be needing them."

"Understood, sir," T'Jenn replied and proceeded out.

Commander Hill made a token argument as T'Jenn left, "Captain, why not use the Transporter?"

"With all due respect, Commander, that ship is an ugly wreck. If we used the Transporter, we'd risk tossing them right into a danger zone. It's better this way," Helmsman Wolfram said, turning in his seat with a chagrinned look on his face, his accent thick.

"Exactly," Hart agreed.

Hart turned to follow the Vulcan woman out, but found his shoulder caught in his First Officer's grip before he could even get out of his chair. He turned back to see the hidden concern written across the deepest part of Aaron Hill's eyes and he chanced a gentleman's smile, standing and facing his second-in-command. The Captain clapped a hand on his Commander's shoulder, recognizing what an effort it was for his friend to express his worry so clearly.

"Routine search-and-rescue, remember Aaron?" Hart reminded his first softly.

"Sure. Just make sure to get your ass back here, got it? I don't' even care if it's in one piece or not," the Louisiana native intoned with a grin.

The captain stifled a chuckle and departed, running checklists in his head even as he stepped into the lift and gave it the floor he needed.

~***~

It only took a remarkable ten minutes for the crew of the USS Seneca to yield a Rescue Party and make sure that they were well outfitted. Captain Hart was pleased to note that there was a phaser on every hip at the very least. He surveyed his team, appreciating the faces he saw. T'Jenn was present as well as Len…although they seemed quite content to stand with a fair amount of distance between them. There was a nurse at Len's side and three larger Security Officers flanking them. It was a bit large for a Rescue Party, but something in Hart's gut told him that he'd want the muscle if push came to shove.

"Alright, I want one of the Security Officers up here with me, two in the back. Lieutenant Commander Len, Nurse Ramirez and Lieutenant T'Jenn are in the middle. Keep your eyes open. We're going out on the gangway, now," the Captain said, getting the party arranged to his liking.

With no ceremony, the small group moved into the gangway extending from the port-side airlock to the other ship. An ominous air hung over them as they moved carefully across the expanse, watching the hulking tombstone of a ship that awaited them. The recycled air seemed even more stale here and there was an unpleasant chill from the mouth of the opposite airlock. T'Jenn shuddered, her Vulcan blood rebelling against the cold despite the fact that she suffered in resolute silence. The party halted abruptly and awkwardly as a loud clunking sound rattled almost deafeningly through the gangway, shaking the whole structure alarmingly and raising a small cry from Nurse Ramirez.

Before panic could even begin to set in, T'Jenn had her tricorder up, scanning the gangway and saying, "No structural weaknesses, Captain. It was probably a faulty locking mechanism sliding into place. We are safe to continue."

"Thankyou, Lieutenant," Captain Hart said lower than he meant to, beginning the crossing once more.

The interior of the freighter was even more distressing and lonely than the outside had been. Ugly black burns lanced up the walls of the gutted interior. They were the leftovers of the electrical fires that had doubtless started as the ship's systems had malfunctioned under the unyielding photon fire that had ravaged the exterior hull. Only emergency lights served to show the way, occasionally augmented by the startling bright spark of a dangling live-wire. To the small Rescue Party it was unclear where the real war-zone was on this ransacked freighter…the outside or the wasteland that lay within. Joseph Hart felt his jaw tighten a bit as he ran a hand absently over a melted metal casing that had once housed a small garden of colorful wires.

His Vulcan Communications Officer moved away from the group, sweeping about with her tricorder, eyes half closed in concentration before she turned back, "I'm detecting life forms up the northwest corridor."

"Very well. I want Len and Ramirez to take the northwest corridor and find those survivors. Take Ensign Willis with you. Check in on communicator every five minutes," Hart ordered.

Len nodded, looking momentarily to T'Jenn before steadying himself and walking away down the corridor, the dark seeming to swallow his tiny contingent whole. He hardly felt more comfortable with the red-shirt Security Officer at his back, despite the fact that Ensign Willis was twice his size and probably capable of cracking a Klingon in half. Subconsciously, he pulled his cap down a little tighter before rummaging in his bag for his own tricorder. He'd need it if he was going to pick up the vital signs of any survivors down this wing. He could already feel the fraying, tenuous fingers of hopelessness starting to stroke at the edges of his psyche, but they were easily staved off. Still, how would a place like this feel to a wounded (perhaps dying) man if it was capable of affecting a healthy, reasonable scientist?

Their group turned a sharp corner, then another, leaving behind the flickering light and the small amount of questionable safety they had felt with their companions.

Only a few feet after the second turn, Len stopped up short, unable to find his tricorder in all the clutter of his bag with no light to guide him, not thinking to warn Ramirez or Willis of his sudden halt. The Xenovirologist mentally cursed his inability to properly organize as he fumbled around for anything that resembled his equipment (or a light for that matter) for long moments. Had it been five minutes yet? Was he supposed to communicate with Captain Hart yet? Damnit.

The small scientist grumbled to himself again when he realized that his Communicator was in the same place as his tricorder…lost in the jumble of his haversack. Double damnit.

He lifted his head a bit to call out to Ramirez and Willis, hissing when it clanged against an overhanging shelf that he had failed to see in the darkness. Len clutched the top of his skull and knelt back down, his ears ringing under his hat as he tried to get his scrambled thoughts together enough to give a yell. He had to admit that he felt like world-class jackass sitting there on his rump, nursing a bruised skull, unable to find any of his equipment or even to call out to the rest of his team and he knew when T'Jenn found out, she'd never let him live it down. He felt his face burn in embarrassment but he quickly fought it down. He couldn't afford to blush.

Swallowing, Len stood up once more (slowly this time) and found his voice, "Ramirez? Willis? Are you still in here?"

For a moment there was only deafening silence.

Len narrowed his eyes and tried again, a little louder this time, "Nurse Ramirez? Ensign Willis?"

This time, there was a definite answer.

A crack of disruptor fire tore through the air next to his right ear and the Xenovirologist threw himself to the floor in an attempt to avoid it. His heart thundered in his chest as he scrabbled to un-holster his phaser, pointing it down the hall. He could hear his own ragged breathing as he forced himself to lie still, fighting to keep his aim on the darkness, as ridiculous as it was. He couldn't see his assailant, couldn't even hear them. If he were to attack now, it would literally be a shot in the dark. He'd try and appreciate the humor in that later when someone wasn't trying to kill him.

He yelled out, "Stop shooting! We're here to help your survivors!"

Another deadly bolt of disruptor fire scorched the deck notoriously close to his face and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He didn't even bother to see if his Phaser was set to stun or not before he returned fire. He mentally congratulated himself for a moment when he heard a cry from down the hall in the direction the disruptor bolts had originated from, but his celebrations were short lived. A spotlight fell on his face, blinding him and exposing him to his attackers all at once. He was a dead man. It was time to put on his brave face…which was awfully hard when you were squinting into the glare of a spotlight, by the way.

Len let out a small hiss as a booted foot pressed down hard on his hand, effectively disabling his phaser and leaving him helpless on the floor. Two scraps of fabric fluttered down in front of his face. They were the gold Starfleet crests worn on the breast of every uniform, spattered with blood and rimmed distinctly in red and blue. Ramirez and Willis had already met the bastards and it seemed that their ends hadn't been as neatly found at the end of a disruptor pistol. Len's delicate, almost Asiatic face twisted with some hybrid child of despair, regret and utter shock as the weight of the situation finally penetrated his brain. The chill metal of the disruptor pistol's muzzle pressed against his temple.

A voice echoed off of the walls, "We are pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Lieutenant Commander Len. We're sorry for what happened to your subordinates, but we don't have time to accommodate the small fish. We are, however, happy to inform you that your date with your maker has been postponed for awhile, despite the harm you managed to inflict on my bodyguard's leg. Get up."

It was a human voice…a dignified human voice. The man who owned that voice had no respectable business operating a disruptor pistol or even having one. Of course, a man with that sort of voice had no respectable business murdering Federation employees either. Len snarled a little bit as strong hands dragged him up off of the floor, pinning his arms behind his back. His head still hurt from the earlier bump he'd suffered and his eyes were stinging from the bright light that they insisted keeping in his face to avoid proper identification on his part. He bared his teeth a little in a pitiful display of defiance, constantly reminded by the disruptor at his temple that any more of a struggle would have dire consequences.

Narrow chest heaving, Len gasped out, "Who are you? Why all these theatrics? The ruined ship, the distress calls?"

A fist landed in his gut and he felt the air leave him as the voice spoke again, "All in good time. Now let's go. Double-time."

~***~

Up one of the southern corridors there was a small control room where Joseph Hart had called his team to rest, already utterly confounded by this entire mission. A freighter this size would have to have been fully manned by one hundred men at the very least and yet there wasn't even a body to show. An attack of the magnitude of the one that had gutted this ship would have…SHOULD have…given them at least a few corpses to work with. Yet there was nothing. There were no survivors, no bodies…no signs of life at all. He could not understand and it was beginning to frustrate him in ways that he was not comfortable with in the least. It did not help that Len, Ramirez and Willis had failed to check in approximately ten minutes ago. None of them could be reached by their individual communicators.

Studying a cracked viewscreen, Hart addressed his Communications Officer, "T'Jenn, I would appreciate your input on this."

"In my opinion, sir, we find ourselves at the center of a rather elaborate ruse," the Vulcan woman replied, her tricorder dormant for the moment.

Hart's communicator beeped insistently and he flipped it open, hoping that it was good news.

It wasn't.

::Seneca to Captain Hart. What is your location?::

"What's going on over there?" Hart asked with a dangerous undertone to his voice.

::It's a mess here, sir. After you left, the adjoining airlock door on the freighter closed. We can't get you out that way and it looks like the Transporter isn't viable either. We can't beam you out.::

"Our location is being cloaked?"

::It's like you're not even there, sir. Commander Hill has everyone working as fast as possible, but there just doesn't seem to be anything we can do here, sir.::

"We'll try to open the airlock doors from over here, then. If we're not on the ship again in two hours, tell Commander Hill that he is to get the Seneca out of here and continue on to Earth. Am I understood?" Hart issued his orders, feeling distinctly dismayed.

::Understood, sir.::

"Hart out," the Captain said, flipping his communicator closed and looking over to T'Jenn, "A ruse indeed."

T'Jenn looked distant for a moment, her eyes vaguely unfocused. It appeared that something had occurred to her while Hart had been dealing with their odd situation. She had both hands firmly planted on a console, looking remarkably dazed out, unblinking and almost subtly stunned. Her mouth was pulled into a thin line and her fingers were tight where they rested against the blistered metal. She came to when the dark-haired captain cleared his throat, coming to stand right next to her. Her brown eyes still looked a little bit distant even as her consciousness came snapping firmly back into the present.

When he spoke again, Captain Hart's voice was gentler, "T'Jenn…are you alright?"

"I am quite well, Captain, although I have a distinctly negative feeling about Len. I propose that we rendezvous with his team. It is clear that there are no wounded aboard this ship and that we are currently engaged in some form of theatrical falsehood. It is only logical that we avoid spreading ourselves thin, sir," the black-haired Vulcan woman replied in her usual, firmly grounded manner.

If Hart didn't know any better, he could have almost sworn he detected a tight, tense edge to her normally cool tone. It was as close to anxiety as a Vulcan ever got and he had seen it once or twice before in his highly cerebral lieutenant. He almost thought he saw that look again, just now. Was that strange half-concern for them? Or was it for Len? Had it even been there at all? Hart mentally shook himself and nodded, grounded firmly by the Vulcan woman's infallible logic once again. He called the two security ensigns assigned to them, preparing to leave the control room they had found their way into.

The door they had come from hissed shut in a rush of dying pneumatics. The cracked screen in front of them began to fill with life; something they had all assumed was past its damaged capacity. If Hart hadn't suspected a trap before, he sure as hell did now.

T'Jenn watched at his side with her damndable Vulcan curiosity and patience as a face took shape on the screen in front of them. It was blurry and intercut with static, but there it was. It was clearly a human despite the flaws of the medium and it was an older one at that. From what Hart could see, it was the face one typically expected of a diplomat; softening and folding in on itself with wrinkles, the crown of the head dusted with white hair, glasses perched on the end of the nose. Hart wasn't sure that the smug malice belonged around the eyes though. No, this man certainly was no diplomat. Before he could even begin speaking, there was a low groan of pain in the background.

"Ah, Captain Hart, I was wondering when you would join us," the man said, sounding pleased with himself.

Hart stepped forward and drew himself up to his full, imposing height, dark eyes glittering with barely concealed danger, "Would you mind telling me what it is you've gotten my crew into?"

"No concern for yourself, Joseph? I hadn't realized you were as gallant as the stories say," the man on the other side of the screen chuckled and the continued, "No I do not mind telling you whatever you care to know, Captain. That is why I'm here right now. You know, it's funny. You weren't the first one to express curiosity."

The man on the other side stepped to the side enough to reveal a nasty little surprise. Len sat behind him in a chair, his arms tied to the back of the furniture piece where he had no leverage to free himself. His legs were bound and he was held completely immobile, a bruise blooming against his cheek. A large, hulking beast of a man stood next to him, holding the disruptor pistol to his head still to discourage any acts of heroism. Hart felt himself take a step toward the screen unbidden and he could feel T'Jenn tensing by his side.

"Forgive my rough treatment of him, Captain. It seems that your heroic nature has rubbed off on your underlings and we were forced to take drastic measures to see that he didn't crash the little party that we have planned for you," the man intoned, at least attempting to sound sorry.

The Captain of the USS Seneca began to feel his blood boil and when he spoke it was neatly controlled, but clear that he was holding back a simmering rage, "What is all this? Why are we here?"

"Both excellent questions, Captain," the man replied, seeming to forget that he was supposed to feel bad for abusing his guest's subordinate, "this is quite a lovely little set-piece, no?"

"No," Hart ground out.

"I suppose it is a little hard for you to appreciate on your end. It really is quite brilliant from where I'm sitting," the man sighed.

Len surged forward in his seat and started to blurt, "Captain, it's – ," but he was cut off sharply when the butt of the disruptor cracked across his skull, causing pain to blossom across his vision.

"You see what I mean, Captain? They're such irrepressible scamps, your men," the man looked somewhat amused by the outburst.

"I have had enough of your games. Tell me what I've asked to know," Hart said, taking another step towards the screen.

"Very well, Captain. You are aboard what was once an Earth supply vessel bound for a colony not far from here. It was easy enough to ambush and the crew were easily dispensed with. Cleanup was easy enough once their bodies were put into airlocks and jettisoned. Oh it will be a dreadful surprise for someone later, I suppose, but war does have its casualties, Captain."

"Highly illogical. There are no wars or skirmishes recorded in this section of space, Captain," T'Jenn interjected.

The man's smile was absolutely predatory, "Oh no, none in this section of space, but you'll notice that I said nothing of the location of our little war, dear girl. Three days ago, your ship settled negotiations with a Klingon outpost at the edge of their space, Captain Hart. I am afraid that I cannot permit this. That outpost is prime territory and simply letting the Klingons have it is a far sight beyond common bad business sense."

"You're doing this for money," Hart simplified elegantly.

"Ah, but what is it that I am doing, precisely, Captain?" The man teased a bit, content to draw out his cat-and-mouse badinage.

"I was rather hoping you would be kind enough to elaborate for us, sir," The Captain said in a completely polite and utterly furious tone.

"Please, call me by my name. We're all partners here. I am Gaspare," the man's smile this time was punctuated with a small pained hiss from Len.

Hart's face was a tight mask of gentlemanly restraint as he spoke, "We are not partners."

"Oh, but we are! You will be a silent partner, of course. Dead men tell no tales and all that. You see, Captain. After your ship is tragically destroyed, her crew lost and bits of debris found scattered amidst Klingon space, Starfleet will be forced to draw the conclusion that negotiations went south. It will be an act of war, I'm afraid. I suspect that outpost will be wiped clean within the year," Gaspare was only too happy to provide.

"You won't be destroying any ship of mine. In an hour and fifteen minute's time, the Seneca has been instructed to pull away and leave us behind," Hart said.

"I wouldn't recommend that, Captain. You see, when your ship's gangway locked onto our airlock, it was like setting your foot on a landmine. If you make any attempt to withdraw, it will send an electrical impulse up into the wiring that will automatically trigger a self-destruct while we sit over here behind our shields. Oh it will be a terrible blow for us as well, but we'll survive."

"The disturbance while we were in the gangway," T'Jenn remembered blandly.

"Spot-on, my girl," Gaspare winked.

The man chuckled again, "You know I've always been partial to Vulcan girls. Never speak unless they've got something important to say and quite lovely on top of all else. You're quite lucky to have one, Captain."

Hart tried to avoid his goading, turning instead to T'Jenn, "Contact the ship and tell them to override the order to pull out."

"I have already made the attempt, Captain. It would seem that Gaspare's shields have the added effect of completely scrambling all of our methods of communication. We are stranded, Captain," T'Jenn replied.

"And the clock is counting down, Hart," Gaspare reminded.

~***~

Zoe stood on the Bridge of the Seneca next to Commander Hill, her fingers weaving in a worried knot in front of her. No communications in or out of the wounded freighter in half an hour according to the chronometer. It was too long. She knew that something was wrong which meant that Captain Hart and the others could possibly be in danger. She almost could have handled it if she knew what sort of danger they were in…but she didn't even have that. No one did. Even Commander Hill was in the dark and it was easy to see that it was driving him mad in a very real way.

He paced the Bridge like a feral cat, his eyes roving the control stations as though staring hard enough at them would summon back their occupants. He was beginning to take regular passes by the chronometer sitting by Helmsman Wolfram's elbow, counting down the minutes until they would be forced to honor the Captain's order and pull away, leaving behind his best friend to an uncertain fate. It sat wrong in his stomach, made him tense and made him sweat. Just watching Aaron Hill in such a helpless state of worry was enough to send a pang directly to Zoe Adele's heart.

Aaron Hill was, at any other time, a proud, outspoken, mischievous man with a reckless streak as wide as the sea. He carried the devil in his eyes and laughter in his heart, an indomitable force of nature like a southern storm. He was overtly confident and oozed a sort of careless, boyish charm that had seduced more than one hapless ensign between his sheets. He was an incorrigible rogue, but that was the beauty of him. He was strength when such a thing was needed; always so effortlessly sure of himself and of their Captain…to see his carefree air falling apart at the seams was like watching the last vestiges of hope slipping through your fingers.

Everyone on the Bridge felt it. It grew heavier with every minute that the chronometer marked.

All Zoe could do was just close her eyes take a deep breath and pray for the best even as everything seemed to collapse into the early stages of chaos.

"Damned if we do and damned if we don't," Hill growled as he practically threw himself into the captain's chair.

The tall CMO gave him a puzzled look, watching as he chewed anxiously at a hangnail, "Aaron, what are you talking about?"

The Commander seemed ready to snap at her question, but forced himself to soften when he registered exactly who it was talking to him. He sighed, studying Zoe and trying to sweep his anger under the rug so it didn't bleed out onto her. If there was one person on the whole damn ship who didn't do anything to deserve his ire, it was their compassionate Medical Officer, the woman watching him with such real, heartfelt concern in her green eyes. She really felt for him or at least she made a fine show of pretending she did and she was one of the two people on the ship that Aaron Hill trusted with his life.

He sighed again, finding measured ways to release his breath, "My conscience is dead if I honor Joe's wishes and pull out of here without him when our time is up. At the same time, it's mutiny plain and simple if I stay behind and wait for him. I'm fucked six ways to Sunday here, darlin'."

"Try not to be so fatalistic, Aaron," Zoe reminded him softly, walking to stand next to the chair.

"What's less fatalistic than your best friend trapped in a burnt-out metal sarcophagus?" The Commander asked the question with a measured degree of bitterness in his voice.

Zoe tried to smile convincingly, "I call the Captain friend too…and don't forget that Len is over there as well and he's very dear to me. However, I know that there's still almost an hour for them to figure out a way back to us if they really are trapped. I also know that our Captain is a very stubborn man. If he can find a way back, he will. We just have to be patient and give him the time to actually do it."

"I hope for the sake of optimists everywhere that you're right," Aaron said, studying the viewscreen with a renewed passion.

Zoe touched his shoulder softly, "And I hope for YOUR sake that I'm right, too."

Aaron managed a half smile and placed one of his hands over hers in a silent gesture of tense thanks.

~***~

Back on the freighter, Gaspare had gone rather silent, though the viewscreen stayed on. He was content to watch his four guests as they tried to puzzle some means out of the trap he'd laid for them. After all, he felt that it would be unfitting for their host to simply disappear and leave them to their own devices in the middle of the party. It simply wouldn't do for them to forget just what kind of situation they were in, so he allowed them to continue to see him, his bodyguard and their captured friend. Call it a friendly reminder.

Captain Hart watched as T'Jenn applied herself to the door, trying to find some means of escape and failing, "Is there a way out of here?"

"Negative, sir. The mechanics in the door broke down shortly after we were closed in here. It seems that they are effectively jammed shut and we are trapped on this side," the Vulcan told him in no uncertain terms.

Hart gritted his teeth and winced as Gaspare took it upon himself to start TALKING again, "It would seem that I have a captive audience, no?"

T'Jenn didn't even turn to the monitor, "Would you like for me to at least attempt to disable the viewscreen, Captain?"

"Oh I wouldn't try that, miss. Why, if you tried to kick me out of my own party, I might be inclined to do something unpleasant to your friend, here," Gaspare gestured to indicate their injured, but still conscious scientist.

His words seemed to send a tremor of tension through the Vulcan lieutenant that even Hart could sense. It wasn't exactly an emotion she was displaying now, no, but it was a very clear reaction to a stimulus. It was bizarre, more than he had ever seen from her before and more than Gaspare had ever seen from any Vulcan. The signs of her sudden discomfort had been small, but still easy enough for him to catch…a tightening of the jaw, the raising of eyebrows and her fists tensing just a fraction were clear enough indicators of her internal displeasure. It made Hart's stomach drop in worry and it fueled Gaspare's delight at the entire situation.

The older human leered at the screen, "It would seem that this boy's safety actually means something to you. I thought that Vulcans did not feel things like affection."

"It is impossible for me to feel affection," T'Jenn replied.

Gaspare's mouth turned up at the edges, "Then what was that I saw? It looked like you were feeling a little worried about your shipmate. Is he a lover? You'd be right to be concerned for him. He took a few hard blows to the head. I'm not entirely sure how many more minutes of consciousness he's got left in him."

"He is fine."

"You seem sure."

"I am sure."

"Then why the anxiety?"

"I would like to propose a trade, Gaspare," T'Jenn interrupted, carefully directing his attention elsewhere.

"A trade, dear girl? Why, it seems that you are beginning to figure me out," Gaspare said with easy delight.

T'Jenn allowed herself the faintest quirk of the eyebrow, "I propose that you give us the Lieutenant Commander. If he is as far gone as you say, then he will provide a poor hostage for you in the immediate future. In return, I will hand myself over to you."

"And what, dear girl, makes you think that this is an acceptable trade?" Gaspare baited her.

"Twenty minutes ago you informed the Captain that he was lucky to have me. This indicates that you have some interest in possessing a Vulcan woman for yourself. I am proposing to give you something that you have hinted at desiring."

The balding man laughed and the sound was more like a hoarse bark, "Always to the point. I like that in a woman."

"Do you accept or not?" T'Jenn said with the same utter neutrality expected of her people.

A door at the opposite end of the room hissed open, clearly in better repair than its neighbor, to admit T'Jenn. The screen dominating the center of the room went dark and the Vulcan lieutenant began to walk without hesitation, picking her way effortlessly through debris. She didn't even blink when she felt the Captain's hand pressing against her bicep, holding her back for just a moment.

"T'Jenn, what are you doing?" Hart inquired in low tones.

T'Jenn turned and fixed him with a piercing stare that could have boiled oceans, "I am using my head, Captain. I suggest that you do the same."

Carefully, she slipped free of his grasp and proceeded down the corridor that lay beyond the yawning gap of the parted door. The Captain prepared to follow with the two security ensigns, making it as far as the door itself before the way was cut off. The door hissed shut behind T'Jenn, leaving her alone and her Captain trapped in the control room behind her. For a moment, T'Jenn closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself, a moment of meditation stolen in the midst of crisis. Inner balance was not hard to find and it was only brief seconds before the tell-tale tap of her boots echoed once more down the corridor towards the steady glow of light at the end. She moved with alacrity, ever-conscious of the minutes counting down for the Seneca before they were forced to follow the suicidal final order of Captain Hart.

The room at the end of the corridor was plainly one of the lesser engineering decks judging by the sort of equipment that dominated it. For the most part, everything in this room looked remarkably well-kept considering the general disarray of the rest of the ship. T'Jenn didn't even question it. Of course the technical decks of the ship were still operational; otherwise they would have no means of life support or locomotion. Gaspare would certainly need some form of dependable transport if he intended to drag the Seneca's remains all the way back to Klingon space.

"There you are. I was beginning to wonder what was keeping you," Gaspare's voice echoed from behind her.

T'Jenn turned and found him seated at a console to one side of the room, his bodyguard standing and holding Len who had been released from his chair. He looked a little bumped and bruised, but not to the extent that Gaspare had suggested. The Vulcan woman hadn't expected him to be. At least his hat was still fixed in place. The two officers seemed to stare at each other for a minute in absolute silence before T'Jenn nodded.

"He will be fine," T'Jenn said frigidly, "Release him now."

Gaspare grinned, "No no, I think I will keep him here for just a little while longer. After all, I need a little bit of collateral while I test my goods."

"Don't touch her!" the little scientist yelled, suddenly putting up a renewed struggle against his captor and, surprisingly, making a decent fight of it.

T'Jenn turned to regard him sharply, "Selen, you are being irrational."

"My, have we got some unrequited love on our hands here? It seems that you've managed to charm the boy!" Gaspare teased, "Maybe he should watch."

The xenovirologist bristled, starting to struggle anew before T'Jenn caught his eyes. The two seemed to face off in a fierce staring match for a long moment until; at last, Len let his fight die and went still against the bodyguard that held him. The discontent written across his features was plain and Gaspare delighted in it. He chuckled and beckoned the Vulcan woman over.

"You wear trousers like the men, I see. I would have preferred a skirt, but I suppose I will work with what I'm given," Gaspare teased again, watching as T'Jenn broke off her staring session with Len to walk over to him, "Who knows? If I like what I am given enough, I may permit you to live. Of your friends, I cannot promise the same."

"You intend to kill them," T'Jenn said, completely unaffected.

Gaspare grinned, reached out to touch the back of her exposed neck, "You don't sound surprised. Of course, I doubt you can feel surprise. I doubt you even care whether or not it is quick and clean. Why, I bet I could slit your young gentleman caller's throat right here and you wouldn't even bat an eyelash."

T'Jenn could hear the low metallic hiss as a knife slid free behind her. She turned her head almost imperceptibly, enough that she could see over her shoulder. It seemed that Gaspare's bodyguard, acting on some sort of unspoken order, had drawn a long, wicked looking knife and now held it to the tender skin on Len's throat. She didn't even twitch, turning her eyes back to the man who seemed quite content to press his thick fingers into the back of her head. The traditional Vulcan in her rebelled at the touch, but the sharp spark of inner loathing was quickly tucked away where all emotions belonged and none of it registered in the depths of her rich, chocolate eyes.

"It would be logical to make their murders brutal," T'Jenn intoned blankly, "you intend to say that Klingons killed them and no Klingon death has ever been easy."

Gaspare ran his hands over her long, silken braids, humming in interest, "Clever girl. If you were capable of deceit, I'd say you were being duplicitous to cut a better deal for yourself. Luckily, I know better than that."

"I believe it is your intent to kiss me," the Vulcan beauty said, looking up at their captor with those deep, emotionless eyes.

"Well, if you're going to be blunt, then so am I," Gaspare smirked, wrapping his arms tightly around T'Jenn and leaning down to plant his mouth against hers possessively.

The sudden action gave Len a start and he struggled minimally again, jerking his shoulders fitfully in a token display of active disapproval. It fueled Gaspare's fire and he kissed the woman harder, holding the back of her head so that she could not move away. The scientist could feel the stinging bite of the blade digging into his neck, could feel the first hot rivulets of blood welling up under its deadly kiss. It stilled him somewhat, but did nothing to quell the disgust that burned bright and hot deep in his belly. The revulsion grew as he watched T'Jenn's hands slip down the human traitor's sides like a caress. Gaspare's eyes closed in arrogant ecstasy. How long could they breathe like that?

After a long moment, Gaspare drew back for breath, smiling over the Vulcan woman's shoulder at the bleeding young man. Something about him caught his eye and made him pause. He couldn't quite figure out what it was that drew him and distracted him, but there was something…the cut at his neck!

"That scientist - !" Gaspare started to yell before there was a loud whine of disruptor fire and he toppled over.

With the speed of a stalking cat, T'Jenn turned and fired a blast at the man who held her shipmate, watching with satisfaction as he crumpled to the floor with a thud. She sighed and ripped an edge off of her tunic, holding it out to Len who accepted it gratefully and pressed it to the weeping cut.

He sighed, "Don't get so into the part next time. That was gross."

"I do not comprehend your revulsion. I merely did what was necessary to attain his disruptor pistol and incapacitate them."

"It was still vile. Are they dead?"

"No, they are stunned. As soon as we disarm the detonation mechanism, we will deposit them in the Brig aboard the Seneca. Starfleet will dispense with them appropriately when we reach Earth."

"Too bad there's not a death sentence anymore. Maybe they'll make an exception for these two."

T'Jenn took a look at her wrist to check her Chronometer, "We will deal with your petty vendettas later, Selen. We have approximately ten minutes to disable the cloaking arrays on this ship. If we can at least open up communications with the Seneca, we can override the order to pull away."

"At least it looks like we're in the right place," Len said, looking around at the equipment scattered throughout the room.

"Most fortuitous," T'Jenn agreed.

Len looked around, "I'm going to leave that task to you. You're more familiar with these kinds of systems than I am and I need to find my bag. I need to patch myself up before we get to the others."

"Affirmative."

T'Jenn moved over to a console almost hidden behind a power conduit, beginning to work switches and cut wires at her leisure while Len went on a search for his absent belongings. It only took him two minutes to locate the thing, giving out a little crow of triumph before rummaging through it. He sighed happily as he began to find his tricorder, communicator, medical supplies and chronometer one-by-one. He bandaged himself quickly, keeping the chronometer in one hand and calling out a warning every two minutes.

T'Jenn's fingers flew as she worked. Len only prayed she was fast enough.

~***~

The outlook on the Seneca was grim.

Aaron Hill stood, death-gripping the back of the command chair as the seconds ticked by and he lost valuable time. There was still no word from the freighter and no way to get in to their absent captain and missing crewmen. He felt adrenaline crawling through his veins and under his skin like an army of little biting ants. He didn't want to leave. He couldn't imagine the Seneca pulling away without the dark, aristocratic captain at its helm, in this chair. It was an incomplete picture and Commander Hill hated not having the whole picture. He was not a man to go wanting.

Lieutenant Wolfram called from his spot at the helm, "Commander, we have one minute until the departure time."

A soft hand settled on Aaron's shoulder and he turned to find himself looking into Zoe Adele's serene face. There was an intense sympathy in her eyes as she said, "Aaron, I'm sorry."

"Don't you talk like that. Not yet. Captain still has 58 seconds to get his ass out of there and I've seen him pull out of closer scrapes," the Cajun man snapped, pulling away from the ship's CMO.

"57 seconds, Commander," Wolfram's crisp german accent echoed across the bridge.

Aaron narrowed his eyes and Zoe could feel his muscles coiling like steel beneath her fingers.

"56 seconds."

"Come on, you bastard…give me a sign…" Aaron hissed, stalking over to the communication station.

"54 seconds."

Zoe looked over to the helm, her eyes meeting the deep hazel of Lieutenant Adair's. An unspoken concern lingered there.

"52 seconds."

"Commander," Lieutenant Adair tried to coax him in her thick, velvety voice.

"No! We do not leave until the absolute second Captain Hart ordered us to go. I will not pull out even a nanosecond sooner, am I understood?" Aaron turned back to the others and glared.

The Indian woman turned back to her console, silently re-checking their departure course for Earth before uttering an obedient, "Aye, sir."

"Good."

"30 seconds."

"Commander Hart, this is Engineering. You're not going to believe this, but it looks like our Transporter is coming back online," the comm in the captain's chair flickered to life.

"25 seconds."

"Zoe, take the Communications Center," Aaron ordered as he stalked back to the chair, hitting a switch and answering, "Keep them online, I repeat, keep them online. We may need them yet."

"Aye, sir. Engineering, out."

"15 seconds."

Commander Aaron Hill felt his tenuous control start to slip and he banged a fist down on the arm of the Captain's chair, gritting his teeth. It was getting too close for even him to believe.

"10 seconds."

"Commander! Aaron! The freighter is hailing us," Zoe practically yelled across the Bridge, "I've opened up a frequency."

"5 seconds."

"Lieutenant Wolfram, shut up!" Aaron yelled as he dashed back across the bridge, eager as a schoolboy to hear what was being said. He didn't have to listen very hard. Whoever was at the other end was yelling as loud as they could.

It was Len's voice, "Do not pull out! Belay the order to pull out! The Seneca is set to detonate if you go! Repeat, repeat, do NOT go!"

"Len, where's Captain Hart?" Aaron asked, feeling his lungs expand in unconcealed relief.

"He's alive, Aaron. We've been separated on this damn contraption, but he's alive and we're alive. It was all a trap. We'll explain more when we've got the time to, sir, but for right now just settle for the knowledge that we're safe with only two casualties and two arrests," Len said, catching his breath from the sound of him.

Lieutenants Adair and Wolfram both collapsed into their seats, releasing all the tension of the past two hours. Zoe allowed herself the guilty pleasure of a happy smile when the realization hit her that nobody was getting left behind today. She handed the earpiece over to Aaron before quietly slipping out to go back to Sickbay. She needed to be there when the injured came aboard if there were any, smiling like nothing was wrong and ready to welcome her crewmates back into the safety and comfort of the ship they loved so well. She mused to herself that they might as well make her Chief Hospitalities Officer as well as Chief Medical Officer with all the different roles she could play in a day.

Commander Hill watched her go with a smirk before turning back to the Communications Center, "Put T'Jenn on if she's there with you."

"Lieutenant T'Jenn reporting, Commander."

"Give me options and recommendations, Lieutenant."

"Recommend that Engineering make their way to the gangway immediately to disarm the detonation trigger. Have the transporter room lock on to our locations and initiate a beam-out once you've cleared the gangway."

"Acknowledged lieutenant…we'll get right on that," the smile in Commander Aaron Hill's tone was practically palpable.

~***~

It was an easy thing to negotiate the doors to the control room back open once Len was patched up and T'Jenn had finished communication with the Seneca. The pneumatic hiss of them seemed to rouse Captain Hart, who had settled into a deep brood in one of the chairs since T'Jenn's disappearance. He and his security officers immediately stood, reaching for their phasers in the event of a firefight, pleased and relieved to see that it was only their Communications Officer and their wayward scientist. Their relief doubled to see that, despite the circumstances, T'Jenn was unharmed and Len wasn't too much worse for the wear, all things considered. He'd already had time to bandage his forehead and his neck.

"Len! T'Jenn! You're both alive. Where's Gaspare?" Hart asked, his black eyes shining.

T'Jenn replied, "I will never understand the human capability to state the obvious while under states of stress. As for Gaspare, he and his bodyguard are both stunned and bound in the next room over. We have already contacted the Seneca and they will be beaming us out as soon as they've had time to disarm the trigger on the detonation device."

"He's saying that he's happy to see you, T'Jenn," Len smirked at her and nudged her in the ribs, earning a raised eyebrow and a frigid stare.

Hart laughed softly at the both of them and shook his head, glad that some things would remain the same no matter what the situation. However, recalling the situation itself quickly brought his mood back down to earth and he frowned deeply. Len caught his sudden drop in buoyancy and canted his head.

"Captain…what's wrong?"

"This is wrong. All of it is wrong. To think that one man would endanger the lives of over 400 Federation men and women just to gain a parcel of space…it's almost beyond comprehension. If Gaspare had succeeded, he could have very well escalated this damn war of ours," Hart said, privately calculating all the potential casualties and shuddering at every one.

"I agree captain. His behavior was most illogical. I believe that sort of egocentric personality pattern is something you humans call 'selfish'," T'Jenn replied, her tone vaguely puzzled.

"You are, as always, correct, T'Jenn," Hart sighed, walking over to the cracked monitor to claim a moment of silent reflection.

~***~

In the end, it took less than half an hour for the skilled engineers aboard the USS Seneca to diffuse the hastily done detonator and retract their gangway. The airlock to the freighter was still firmly sealed, but with their transporter room back online, this didn't present any sort of problem. It wasn't very long at all before Len, T'Jenn and Joseph stood on the pads, the almost-nausea of molecular transport wearing off into the recycled air. The two security ensigns followed behind with their prisoners shortly afterwards, sparing no time before dragging them down to the brig where they would remain until facing a trial on earth. The charges so far stood to put Gaspare and his bodyguard away from quite an impressive amount of time. Hart was sure of that.

The three had hardly made it onto the Bridge before they were assaulted with smiles…and literally in the Captain's case. He had barely stepped from the lift when he felt himself firmly gripped and wrapped in a hug of almost crushing force. He gasped in air as quickly as he could before almost losing the power to expand his lungs at all and it took him a moment to properly determine what had happened to him. He looked up and found that he was in one of Aaron Hill's famous bear-hugs. There was an almost desperation in the embrace, the hug of a man who had been very nearly convinced that he would lose his best friend. Despite the bone-crushing pain of it, Hart felt a bit of warmth seeping into his heart.

On the other side of the Bridge, Zoe's reunion with Len was far more subtle, but every bit as welcoming. She reached out softly and took her co-worker's hands into her own, holding them firmly, but without pressure. She smiled at him and he returned the expression, glad to be with her again.

Zoe turned to watch as T'Jenn attempted to slip into the communications seat without so much as a greeting and she said, "We're glad to have you back as well, T'Jenn."

The soft sentimental briefly arrested T'Jenn's motion, but her pause quickly passed and she sat down, reaching for her earpiece and turning back to her beloved console. Len chuckled and Zoe simply afforded her an indulgent smile of understanding. No one was going to begrudge the contrary Vulcan her ways today, not when they were simply pleased to have her back alive.

Zoe turned her attention back to Len, gently touching the bandaging on the side of his face, "That looks painful, Len."

He hissed a little and grinned, gently pushing her hand away, "The neck is worse, but thanks for noticing."

"If you want, we can give those wounds a little bit of extra attention in the Sickbay, Len," Zoe said with true compassion in her face.

T'Jenn's sharp tones disrupted her thoughts, "That will not be necessary. You will find that his bandages are sufficient for the level of damage he sustained."

"Oh…oh of course. I didn't mean to doubt your medical abilities, Len," Zoe apologized softly.

Her fellow doctor gave her an apologetic look and gently touched the top of her golden hair, "Don't mind T'Jenn. It's true that my wounds are going to be alright, but I do appreciate the concern. Still, I think I'd like to go back to the Sickbay. I need the safety of our old stomping grounds right now."

Len reached out and took a hold of Zoe's arm before leading her off towards the lift and their comfortable little work station.

As they departed, Aaron finally broke his hug with their captain and Hart took in a great breath of fresh air, his lungs burning with the need and his face burning with the force of the smile that spread across his features. Once he had the free use of his arms again, he returned the hug, only with far less fervor than his Cajun friend. Hart had never imagined he'd be so happy to be near Hill and he wasn't about to let something like decorum stand in the way of his appreciation for his friend.

Aaron spoke with a smile lighting up his rakish features, "If you keep trying to disappear on me, you're going to have to start giving commands from the brig, sir!"

"A threat? I could have you court marshaled for that," Joseph Hart teased as he broke the hug and walked over to his command chair.

Commander Aaron Hill laughed, "You'd never make it to Earth without me and you know it, Joe."

"Well then while I still have you, let's get going, shall we? Lieutenant Adair? Lieutenant Wolfram?"

The german helmsman turned back to the Captain's chair and said with absolute confidence, "Course locked in for Earth, sir. We are ready to go to Warp speed at your order."

Captain Hart leaned back in his chair, looking every inch the proud leader of the pack, "Warp Seven, gentlemen. I believe that we've kept Starfleet waiting for far too long, already."

~***~


	2. Reunions, Reasons and Futures

Disclaimer: The world of the future as expressed by Gene Roddenberry and all canon characters used are copywrite to Paramount. The Seneca and her crew, along with original characters, remain my creative property.

Warning: I have a nasty tendency to never use a Beta Reader, so expect a decent amount of typos. I tend to do the best of my writing either half awake or slightly intoxicated, after all.

The Seneca Missions  
Episode Two: Reunions, Reasons and Futures  
Rating: PG-13

"Shore leave, Captain?" T'Jenn's voice was nothing short of incredulous as she regarded their statuesque commanding officer.

Hart smiled at his stiff Communications Officer, "Only for a day or two, T'Jenn. Most of the crew on this ship is human and they'll want to stretch their legs. After Klingon negotiations and booby-trapped starships, I think it's only fair. Besides, we've successfully handed over our war criminals and our next assignment requires the ferrying of a Research Scientist off-world. He's not yet finished with his work on Earth, so we're waiting on his word."

"I will be staying here, Captain," the woman said in regards to the idea of shore leave.

Hart raised his eyebrow, but continued to smile indulgently, "On what grounds, Lieutenant T'Jenn?"

"Vulcans do not require this baffling sort of rest that humans seem to regularly indulge in. As a matter of fact, I gain all necessary rest from sleeping, sir. Beyond that, I find the main base of operations for Starfleet to be too cold for my liking," T'Jenn stated.

Aaron Hill smirked at her from where he was standing next to the Captain, "Let me get this straight. You think that CALIFORNIA is too cold?"

Her eyebrow quirked up, the left one, "Overlooking your penchant for repetition, Commander, yes, that is what I said. My people are desert dwellers and your California is a temperate zone. To one of Vulcan physiology, it is moderately unpleasant."

The irritating Cajun pursed his lips tauntingly and cooed at his favorite pastime, "Hate to break it to you, T'Jenn, but you've been requested specifically. It looks like you're going to be heading down with us."

T'Jenn's other eyebrow lifted and she regarded the captain of the Seneca quietly, almost as though she were looking for reprieve in his dark eyes. He just gave her a helpless grin and spread his hands in a gesture of defeat. Apparently whoever wanted to see her on Earth was over Captain Hart's head and he was quite at a loss to rescue her from the crushing grip of vacation time. After a moment of weighing all of the logic and all of the arguments she could potentially lay out, T'Jenn simply decided that it would be wiser to concede defeat and accept the orders as they were given. As a demonstration of acquiescence, she pulled her earpiece out and laid it down on her console, resigning herself to a short leave from her duties.

Hart chuckled at the small gesture, "It's only for a few days, T'Jenn."

"What am I expected to do?" The woman asked.

"Expected? Nothing! Galdang, you're trying to turn this shore leave thing into a mission," Aaron protested, rolling his eyes in a manner that could only be described as derisive.

T'Jenn fixed her chocolate stare on the Commander, "Well, what are you going to be doing with your time?"

"I was thinking of taking Lieutenant Commander Adele down to the bay at least one day. Who knows? It's a nice season for flowers. I may see if she wants to spend a day on Starfleet Academy Campus," Aaron said, his thoughts turning inward as he considered.

"You'll find something to occupy your time, T'Jenn. You might try and accompany Len to Starfleet Medical. I know that he was interested in trying to access their library," Hart offered with some degree of sympathy for his Vulcan subordinate's plight.

"Some vacation," Aaron snorted at the very idea.

T'Jenn was still putting up a silent struggle from her chair, "When are we expected to begin beam down procedures to the planet's surface?"

A young, male ensign turned from his station near the wall, "We already commenced procedures about twenty minutes ago, Lieutenant," he looked chagrinned, "we…didn't want to inform you until after we had started."

"I see," the Vulcan woman returned in an icy tone, causing the ensign to flinch visibly, "I am going to gather some of my personal items so that I will be prepared while interred on Earth."

With no more than that, T'Jenn stood, her dark hair shifting and her posture rigid as she left her console behind. With perfect economy of motion she strode over to the lift and disappeared into it, leaving only the hiss of the doors and a marked drop in social temperature behind her. Her ominous presence seemed to linger behind her in the wake of her great consternation even after she had departed for another floor entirely. At least, the poor ensign still seemed a little bit shaken.

"Huh," Aaron commented after she had gone, "I didn't know you could be dramatic and emotionless at the same time. Girl's a regular bag of surprises, that one."

Hart put a hand to his chin, rubbing the smooth expanse as he considered that, "Yes…lately she's been more and more curious than I thought her capable. She's becoming quite enigmatic."

"Joe, what are you talking about?" his friend asked, prodding him in the shoulder.

"On that freighter…while we were prisoners…she seemed to have this sudden and remarkable connection with Len. She's an intelligent woman and it could have been her attempt at a bluff, but she seemed to be attuned and aware of his status at all times," the dark captain recounted, "Frankly I'm beginning to wonder if there isn't something going on between those two."

"What you're trying to say is that you think they're fucking," Aaron said what his friend was too tactful to.

The captain gave his First Officer a pointed look, "Now that isn't what I said, Aaron."

"You didn't deny it either, Joe," Aaron countered playfully.

"Well what am I supposed to think? She seemed to actually tense up on that freighter when Gaspare was hurting Len. On top of that, how do you explain her seeming to automatically know just how ill he was at any given time? It's just…beyond me, Aaron."

"Still, it seems pretty unlikely to me. Knowing how T'Jenn normally treats Len, she'd be more likely to eat him alive than have sex with him. Besides, what good Vulcan woman ever settled for some human scientist?"

"Well, there is Ambassador Sarek's wife…"

"That's the other way around, Joe. Totally different kettle of fish," Aaron replied with a toothy grin.

Hart looked defeated with his friend, "I fail to see how."

"That's because you don't understand the delicate intricacies of interspecies relationships, my friend. Could be why you haven't gotten laid in the last two years," the Commander snarked, pushing the limits with the man he'd called friend since childhood.

"Or maybe it's just because I'm a little more concerned with communicable diseases than you are," Hart pushed right back with a wry smirk.

"EITHER way, I'm just saying that I wouldn't think too hard about this whole Len and T'Jenn conspiracy you've got knockin' around in the old noggin'. It just doesn't wash. T'Jenn's got something against the guy, can't call it animosity since Vulcan's don't really get that whole 'anger' thing, but there's definitely something off and it's not sexual tension. Trust me, I know sexual tension," Aaron smoothly diverted back to the original conversation.

His captain, however, didn't seem as quick to dismiss it, "I just can't shake it, Aaron. Do you think Zoe would let me check their medical records just to see if there was anything that indicated –"

"Joe, let it go! Galdang, you're like a dog with a bone. There's nothin' going on between T'Jenn and Lenny-boy so put that active imagination of yours to rest and get ready to beam down. I gotta go talk to Zoe, but you better be in that Transporter waiting for me by the end of the hour or I'm draggin' you out by your hair, got it?" Aaron wagged a finger near his friend's face.

"Alright, alright…I just need to run a quick check on – "

"Nothing doin', Joe. The Seneca's in dry-dock and she'll be just fine. I'm leaving now. Remember, one hour," the Cajun man cajoled before strolling easily over to the lift and disappearing into it just as T'Jenn had done minutes earlier (sans the chill).

"I think he meant it, Captain," Leila Adair said from her station, a bemused glint in her bright hazel eyes.

Hart was already walking from the Bridge, "Oh I'm sure he meant it, Leila. By the way, what are your plans?"

"I was born here, sir. I am going to try and visit my twin sister. She is a curator at an Ancient History museum further into the city," the exotic woman's lips turned upwards in a serene expression of happiness.

"And Oliver?"

"Lieutenant Wolfram went down with one of the first groups. He received a message last night on the Bridge telling him that he had a surprise waiting for him, so he hurried down as soon as he was able, sir."

"Excellent," Hart said, reaching the doors to the lift, "now if only we can get T'Jenn to hate this a little bit less, I'd say we could call this shore leave a rousing success."

Leila allowed herself a small, sparkling laugh, "I think, sir, that you would have an easier time mining dilithium crystals with your teeth."

~***~

It was a bright autumn morning in San Fransisco, a chill wind springing up over the bay and whipping around the couple that stood leisurely by the water's edge. Aaron wore a pair of blue jeans and a flannel shirt tucked away under a light windbreaker to keep the edge of the nippy wind off of his arms. Zoe had opted for a short-sleeved polo and a pair of slightly too-long slacks, a scarf tied like a hairband around the crown of her head to keep her golden locks out of her face. Aaron found that he was having a hard time not staring at the ship's CMO. The sunlight of Earth did her tawny complexion a pretty big favor, in his opinion. It made her eyes just a little bit brighter, too.

He was being good. He hadn't even tried to take her hand, yet.

Yet.

Aaron told himself that he could get used to this as he took a deep lungful of the fragrant seaboard air, delighting in the fact that it lacked the stale tang of the recycled kind he normally consumed. Here he was standing and watching the light sparkle over the water with the most beautiful available bachelorette on the USS Seneca at his side without a care in the world. He remembered a time when he had felt this way long ago in his beloved, bustling New Orleans. It seemed ages ago now and sometimes it did hurt to recall, but it seemed so easy to forget here on the other side of the United States with Zoe. To think, it was only the beginning of their first day away from the ship.

"It's so different," Zoe said softly, the wind playing in her scarf.

Aaron smiled, turning to look at her, "What is?"

"San Francisco. It's so different from Paris," she replied, taking another step towards the bay to examine a small white flower poking up from the ground.

"You went to the Academy here though, right?" Aaron inquired.

Zoe crouched, touching the flower with just the pads of her fingers, "Of course. I graduated with honors from Starfleet Medical Academy but…well…I was a bit of a bookworm. I studied hard and I didn't leave long enough to do a lot of sight-seeing in between exams. Len and I seem to have that much in common."

"Well, I'm glad that I'm the one who gets to show you the sights, then. I'll consider it a personal honor," the Louisiana man drawled warmly.

The CMO gave him one of her special little gentle smiles, looking away from the flower to study the bay itself again, "To be honest, I was a little bit surprised that you asked to show me around, Aaron. You seem to have…other pursuits in mind most of the time."

"Are you calling me a womanizer?" Aaron teased.

"I am saying that you seem to have an inordinate amount of young girls in your cabin," Zoe laughed.

That laugh made Aaron's stomach do a little dance and he said, "You don't know me very well then, Miss Adele."

"Help me get to know you, then. We've worked together for years, but I have to confess that aside from Lenny, I'm not personally familiar with that many others on the ship," the woman replied.

"Let's walk. You can ask me anything you want," Aaron offered, holding out an elbow for Zoe to take while they went.

The doctor draped one hand in the crook of his arm, gently touching his elbow with the other and looking ahead as their feet carried them toward the giant bridge that dominated the skyline, "Alright then…tell me about yourself?"

"What about me?" Aaron asked.

"Anything. Maybe why you joined Starfleet?"

There was an odd pang in Aaron's heart and his next smile was almost wistful, "Ah, now that is quite a story, Miss Adele. You sure you want to hear it?"

"Only if you want to tell it, Aaron," Zoe's tone was tender.

"You're the only person aside from Joe I've ever told this to."

"I feel honored, Aaron."

"Well, to be honest, I never really had any aspirations for the military when I was a younger man. Mind you, I'm still pretty young! I'm only 35, I'll have you know. That's beside the point though, I guess. See, I was born and raised in Louisiana…father was a mechanic and mother was one of those little stay-at-home ladies. I had my heart set on the same sorta life…small business with a little gal all my own," Aaron sighed as he recalled his past years in the pungent port city.

Zoe didn't say anything, waiting for him to continue and he was happy enough to oblige, "Went to college for a few years so I could work on the more complicated gizmos. I was trying to pick up my degree and instead I managed to pick up this sweet little girl from the Anthropology department. God, what an angel she was. Her name was Mary. She had these big ideas about humanoid common heritage and a unified galactic existence. I figured it was all fairy tales, but she was the kinda girl who could just sweep you along with whatever she said. She had such a passion for it. I fell hard."

"We got married after she graduated since she was a little ahead of me and I just sorta let my education fall by the wayside. I took over dad's business and she started lecturing at the University. She wasn't what I'd always visualized for myself, but she was damn well what I wanted in the end."

Aaron stopped, taking a deep breath and smiling apologetically, "Sorry…I didn't mean to go on about some old flame."

"It's alright, Aaron...what happened to Mary?" Zoe asked with a great deal of understanding in her voice.

The first officer of the Seneca felt his insides tighten, but this was Zoe he was talking to. This was safe, sweet Zoe. He knew that out of everyone on the ship, she was one of the two the least likely to ever judge him. It didn't feel quite so terrible to tell her.

"She was flying out to San Francisco to give a lecture on her theory of Unified Humanoid Evolution and…and it was so sudden…she just…died. Brain aneurysm…Grade 6 hemorrhage… Just…boom…like that. We didn't even know she'd had it," Aaron pinched his sinuses, getting very still, "She'd talked about having some pretty severe headaches up until then, but we assumed it was anxiety. This was a pretty big event for her. I never saw it coming."

"About a month later after everything was said and done, I flew out here to visit the last place she'd seen before it happened. Life felt pretty empty, gotta admit. Suddenly the little life with the mechanic shop just…well it didn't seem as important. I started thinkin' a lot about Mary's old ideas about space and the people in it…her big, big ideas. I felt pretty small and I decided to do somethin' about it. Hell, I had a pretty extensive technical background…so I enrolled in Starfleet Academy. Just couldn't stand the idea of stagnating anymore…cause that's what it felt like without Mary. Stagnant."

"Aaron…" Zoe said quietly, moving her hands to take his hands. It was a gesture she used many times with Len, but with him it seemed more…intimate.

The commander ran fingers through his thick chestnut hair with the one hand that Zoe had managed to leave free, "I probably ruined the whole day, didn't I?"

"No, Aaron…I had no idea. I never would have known you were a widower," the CMO gave him one of those looks so full of sympathy that he felt like he'd drown in the emotion.

"Most people don't. I don't talk about it much…past is the past," he tried to defend.

Zoe reached up to touch the light fuzz of stubble that seemed ever-present on the Cajun's cheek, "You don't have to be guarded about it today, Aaron. I promise nobody else will ever know. You can trust me."

Aaron reached up and touched Zoe's hand softly, taking it in a soft grip and moving it from his cheek, but not letting go, "I appreciate it, Zoe. Hey…would you mind if I made up for spoiling the mood by offering to take you to lunch? I know the best places on the bay."

"The mood isn't ruined, Aaron, but I'll still take you up on that offer," the French woman took her hand back long enough to nudge him in the ribs playfully.

Suddenly, his usual mischievous grin reappearing like a sun after a summer storm, Aaron knelt, scooping Zoe up into a piggyback position against his shoulders. He laughed at her little yelp of surprise before taking off at a swift jog, her laughter echoing in his ears. Despite the pain of reliving the cataclysmic end of his short-lived marriage, he felt his mood slowly rising again. No wonder Zoe was a doctor, he mused quietly to himself as the brisk fall winds nipped at their noses. Even her good cheer was like the best painkiller he'd ever known.

So far, this vacation was shaping up just fine.

~***~

Lieutenant Wolfram honestly couldn't remember a better surprise than stepping off of the transporter pad at Starfleet only to find his young daughter wrapped around his knees a second later.

"Celia!" Oliver cried, reaching down to lift the tiny blonde girl into the air, "What are you doing here?"

"Mummy brought me!" Celia said, hugging her father around the neck.

"Your mother…?" the blonde helmsman looked up sharply, his bright gray eyes searching for that special woman.

When he found her, his heart did a little jump of delight. She wasn't anywhere near as tall as he was, but she was a classic beauty. She wore a knee-length dress, belted in at her slim waist, a wide-brimmed hat on her head and flats on her small feet. Her lips were a bright red and her smoky blue eyes were only for him. She was a jazz frau long after it was fashionable, but she made it work. Oliver couldn't believe that it was really his wife standing there waiting for him. He walked over, daughter on his hip and gave her as big of a hug as he could manage.

His voice was incredulous, "Brigitta, did you come all the way here from Berlin just to see me?"

"Captain Hart sent word that you would be docking at Earth soon," the slender german woman said, her accent thicker than her husband's, her arm across his back to keep the hug for as long as she could afford it, "Can you blame us? We missed you."

"I have missed you as well, you and Celia both," Oliver smiled and kissed Celia's forehead.

"Did you get the present that I sent you for father's day, Papa?" Celia asked, her little button nose wrinkling up a bit.

"Of course I did and I liked it very much, schones madchen! Did you make it all by yourself?"

"Ja, papa!"

Oliver set her down and ruffled her pale blonde curls, "Mein gutes madchen."

"We have a hotel room in the city, Oliver. Celia was hoping that you would spend your shore leave with us here before you have to leave again," Brigitta said, laying her hand on her husband's shoulder.

The tall, Aryan man didn't even have to think about it. He was a simple man with simple pleasures, colloquial to a fault and affectionate whenever he could afford it. How on earth could he refuse the two most important people in the world to him when his wife was standing there, having traveled so many thousands of miles just for the chance to see him? How could he refuse the loving longing in those smoky blue eyes? Oliver had never been a man to neglect the crucial details and right now, spending time with the family he missed so dearly was more crucial than anything else he could possibly fathom in the entire world.

His face colored with dedication, Oliver replied, "I can't imagine any other place I'd rather be, Brigitta."

He reached down and folded Celia's little hand in his larger one, smiling at the warmth of it while his wife took her other one and the small family made their way outside and off of Starfleet premises. Oh he missed this closeness. There were some nights when all Oliver could do was lay in bed, the family photograph they'd had made before he deployed clutched to his chest, and dream of a day when he could be with them again. Chances like this one were so rare and cherished that sometimes Oliver forgot entirely why he had ever wanted to leave them behind for the cold vacuum and danger of space. What more could a man possibly want than the company of his beloved wife and his daughter?

His daughter.

A look into Celia's large, blue eye was all it took to remind the humble man why he'd chosen a life of space. Out in the final frontier, he may only be able to see her tiny smile through holograms and viewscreens, but at least he knew it was there. On the Seneca, Oliver felt as though he was at least doing something to keep his only child safe from a larger threat than simply being lonely for daddy every so often. The USS Seneca's peaceful mission of preserving diplomacy in the universe made sure that his clever little girl would keep her precious smile for many years to come.

"Papa!" Celia's voice cut through his musings like the clear peal of a silver bell on the dawn mists.

Oliver chuckled, "What is it, Celia?"

"Where did you go this time, Papa? Where have you been?" his daughter tugged insistently on his hand, practically begging for a story.

"Well…" the German helmsman pursed his lips as he tried to think what would interest his little girl the most and he settled on their most recent adventure, "just last week we were talking to Klingons."

"Klingons!" Celia's mouth formed a neat 'O' of astonishment and her mother laughed softly.

"Oh, did they fight you, papa?! Did you have to shoot anyone?" Celia asked warily, giving him a look that said she was going to be greatly disappointed if he did.

"No, no, dear one, papa didn't have to shoot anyone. You see, they put an outpost very near to our territory and so my friends and I had to fly out and make sure they weren't trying to be sneaky," Oliver told his little girl.

"Sneaky, papa?" the blonde girl asked, her brow crinkling in confusion.

The helmsman tried to think of the easiest way to explain it, "Sometimes, dear one, the Klingons are not very happy with us and they will try to start fights with us. It's like…well…have you ever played 'Capture the Flag' with your friends at school?"

"Mm-hmm! I am very good at that game, papa!"

"Well, there is an invisible line in space. One side belongs to the Klingon people and one side belongs to us. If they sneak over onto our side of the line, we have to go and see that they are not trying to steal our flag and they do the same if we go over their line without asking for permission. Do you see?" Oliver asked, hoping he had made it easy enough.

Celia frowned again and said, simply, "Klingons don't look like they play games, papa."

For a moment, Oliver looked absolutely bewildered before bursting out into laughter. His wife joined him in a much softer tone and said, "From the mouths of babes, meine liebe?"

"It would seem so!" her husband replied merrily.

Between the laughing couple, the little girl looked terribly confused. Oliver gave her a soft smile before kneeling and kissing the top of her head, "You will understand someday, little one."

"…If you say so, papa," she pouted back.

"Oh, meine blume, you don't need to frown like that! How about we go to the museum here? My friend, Leila, is supposed to be visiting her sister who works there. We could spend the day with them and I bet you that they wouldn't mind," the colloquial man offered his little daughter.

Celia's blue eyes lit up until they were the same color as the sky, "Miss Leila?! She's here, too? I want to go see her, papa!"

"Come along then," Oliver stood up again, smiling secretly to his wife as their daughter practically dragged them off, eager to see one of her father's famous co-workers.

~***~

Up in the Seneca, T'Jenn had almost finished the last of her preparations to brave the extent of what she believed to be an unnecessary, mandatory shore leave. She had packed a few of her heavier garments (she understood that it was one of the colder earth months down on the surface) and had made arrangements with Starfleet to take temporary housing on the premises until it was time to return the ship. There was only one more thing she needed to do and it was the task that she had left for absolute last. Had she been a woman ruled by emotion, she might have admitted to herself that she didn't even honestly want to undertake this errand, but she was a Vulcan and therefore duty won out over desire. She found herself walking into the Sickbay instead of the Transporter Room.

The Sickbay itself seemed almost like an animal without a heart now that CMO Zoe Adele had already made her way down to the surface, a creature with the steady pulse of machines but no soul. The smell of sanitizers and sterility mixed with the recycled oxygen here, but at least it was warm. All of the beds were empty and all of the implements were tidy in their place. It was one thing T'Jenn could at least appreciate about the overly affectionate human woman who ran the Sickbay…she was thorough and precise. The heavy Vulcan robes that T'Jenn wore rustled softly as she walked through to one of the smaller labs just beyond the main room.

She was looking for someone in particular.

She found Len sitting alone at a work station, holding a PADD in his elegant piano-fingers with one hand and a stylus in the other. He scrolled through and made addendums as he considered, chewing on the end of the stylus one moment before scribbling in some correction. He was dressed casually in just his black pants, boots and the black t-shirt that typically went beneath the blue medical tunics, his knit cap still pulled down over his ears and his posture relaxed. He sighed and set the PADD down after a minute or two, stretching like a cat and yawning loudly, covering up the sounds of T'Jenn's approach.

He nearly flew out of his skin when she finally started talking, "Selen."

"Christ!" The scientist exclaimed loudly, almost knocking the PADD off the table as he turned around with a start, "Don't SCARE me like that, T'Jenn!"

She stared at him for a moment as though he were a foreign entity before he gave her an irritated sigh, "You know I don't like it when you gawp at me like that. It makes me uncomfortable."

"I am sorry. I just do not understand you," the Vulcan woman apologized faintly.

Len leaned back in his chair, still regarding her, "You never have, but we're still stuck together despite all that."

"That is what I have come to speak with you about, Selen."

"Huh?"

"I believe that it would be prudent for you to demonstrate a little bit more restraint in matters that concern me. Should one of our crewmates happen to witness one of your outbursts such as the one on Gaspare's ship, they may begin to suspect," T'Jenn said archly.

A flicker of disgust shot across Len's eyes, "Wouldn't that just be tragic."

T'Jenn's eyebrow rose, "You are vexed."

"No, I'm just chiding myself for ever forgetting that you're ashamed of me," the scientist said, picking up the PADD and shoving it into his black shoulder-bag almost viciously.

"You know that I do not feel shame, Selen."

"And that doesn't BOTHER you?"

"You know very well that it cannot," T'Jenn said almost as though she were speaking very slowly to a mental cripple.

Len shoved the stylus behind his ear, "No, of course not."

There was a heavy shroud of animosity hanging in the air over the two officers as Len hastily crammed a few more things into his bag without speaking to T'Jenn. As a matter of fact, he seemed to be pointedly ignoring her infuriating presence in what he considered to be his safe place. Of course she wouldn't let him have even this safe-haven against her intrusion. It made him grind his teeth in irritation just a little bit as the tension between them grew by steady degrees. For the most part, T'Jenn was still as a statue, doing little (if anything) to respond to the discontent that seemed to be almost choking the other occupant of the room. At last, Len just snorted and turned to walk out.

"Selen."

"Don't call me that, T'Jenn."

"What was on the PADD?"

The question paused Len's forward momentum and he turned curiously to regard the Vulcan woman in the room with him, venturing, "It is a list of diseases that I would like to study if Starfleet Medical will allow me use of their library."

"You are…dedicated in your studies," T'Jenn said with a minor pause.

"My medical knowledge is all I really have to offer the universe. It's what got me my job on the Seneca. I pride myself on being foremost in my field," Len said, a little bit of the venom disappearing from his tone.

The Vulcan canted her head to the side on her slender neck, "You feel useless if your medical expertise is lacking?"

"Mine is the business of saving lives. Every bit of information that I do not have, every virus that I neglect to study may one day equal a life lost. I refuse to let a patient die because of ignorance."

T'Jenn took to staring at him again and Len frowned deeply, recognizing that she couldn't understand his passion. How could she possibly comprehend the weight of emotion that fueled his conviction as a doctor and a scientist? It wasn't in her upbringing to take such things into account. Compassion was simply a variable that no Vulcan was taught to factor in to whatever equation they used for day to day living. Still, when she stared at him that way he almost felt like one of his own specimens, like a wriggling, single-celled nothing being scrutinized by god.

He tried another approach, "T'Jenn, a Xenovirologist is all I am and all that I will ever be permitted to be. That fact has been made painfully clear to me. Therefore, it is logical that I attempt to excel in the only option that I have been granted."

"You know what must do in order to be recognized as what you once were."

The sharp edge came back into Len's eyes and he tightened his grip on the strap of the black bag that rested over his narrow shoulder, "Never in a million years, T'Jenn."

"You are being unreasonable. I fail to see the logic in how stubbornly you resist what you should accept as reprieve," the woman replied almost archly.

"Vulcans don't know everything after all, then?" Len shot back, feeling in a particularly spiteful mood today.

"It is impossible to know everything, Selen."

The scientist's back straightened up, his body tensing as she used that name again, "Clearly. After all, you know NOTHING about me despite the connection we share."

If she were capable of such an expression, Len would have almost believed he heard wistfulness in T'Jenn's tone when she spoke again, "There are days when evidence forces me to doubt that connection."

Len uttered a cold sound of something between shock and mild disdain before muttering, "I think you should leave, now. After all, you were specially requested down on Earth…and I'd hate for you to have a black mark on your perfect record."

If T'Jenn understood the barb that had been leveled at her, she did not show it. The Vulcan woman simply folded her hands in front of her, hiding them away in the sleeves of her robes before turning and departing from the Sickbay altogether, no doubt headed for the Transporter Room. Once she was gone, the anger drained out of Len's slender form, leaving him feeling utterly sapped and forcing him to retreat to the support of his chair. He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes to try and relieve the headache that he felt building there; wishing very suddenly that this shore leave was over so things could fall back into their natural ebb and flow. After all, whenever T'Jenn was busy with the Bridge, she was far less likely to come and badger him.

Len couldn't help the small twinge that sprung up in his heart. Sometimes he felt like a real heel for thinking that way about a woman who held the kind of position in his life that she did. Sure she had the potential to seem like a hateful, heartless bitch from time to time, but she couldn't help that their natures clashed and she was still his…well…

At the moment, Len felt like a lower life-form than the amoebas that slithered their existences away in his Petri dishes.

~***~

T'Jenn was nothing in life if not punctual and she managed to be on time to her destination despite her brief delay with Len on the Seneca. Perhaps she had even calculated in the estimated time she would take in the Sickbay to allow for her usual perfect timing. It seemed like something the Vulcan was capable of, surely. Whatever the reason, T'Jenn found herself stepping into one of the corridors of Starfleet Science with a grace most people couldn't exhibit after a beam-down, as if existing between states was simply natural for her. After living with humans for so long, it probably was.

As if to drive the utter perfection of her timing home, a man came to a stop several feet from her as she left the transporter pad and made her way from the room.

He was a tall man, flesh deeply wrinkled and weathered from age and the elements. His eyes were as deep a brown as her own, almost fading into black and set deep against the aristocratic ridge of his brow, eyebrows elegantly upswept in a familiar way. His straight black hair was trimmed in a very traditional fashion to keep it clear from his face and from the delicate points of his ears. The lines of his face made his expression seem slightly severe, but in the end it was a very normal look for a venerable Vulcan man.

T'Jenn found both of her eyebrows rising upwards unbidden, "It was not my expectation to see you here."

"I found that it was my wish to see my daughter," the man replied cordially.

"It was you who sent Captain Hart the order to see that I come to this planet's surface?" T'Jenn inquired.

A slow nod was part of the answer she received, "I felt that it would be prudent for us to speak while there was still an appropriate time to do so."

"Would it be logical to assume, also, that you are the scientist who we shall be accompanying, father?"

"Indeed, it would be."

"To Vulcan?"

"Affirmative."

T'Jenn's eyebrows drew back down and her face settled into something akin to consideration. She was thinking and thinking deeply. Her father noticed the expression as it clouded her features and seemed to return it, almost immediately guessing the cause of her upset. It wasn't necessarily dismay, but it was close enough to be startling to him somewhat. His daughter had always been very proper and very strong, always in strict control of her emotions. To see her quite this close to openly demonstrating something like worry was baffling. He started to walk, knowing that she would follow.

His voice deep and rumbling, the Vulcan man spoke, "It has been many years since I have seen your face so drawn. Something is troubling you."

"I predict that there will be complications in this voyage," T'Jenn confirmed.

"Selen?" Her father asked.

The younger Vulcan inclined her head slightly, "Affirmative. He is not yet aware that you are the scientist coming aboard. Therefore, he cannot know that our next destination is Vulcan. This presents certain difficulties which must be addressed."

"Indeed, it would seem so. Captain Hart does not know?" The Vulcan scientist asked of his daughter.

"Negative. Starfleet has kept their word. Our bond and his situation have been kept private at the behest of our diplomats in the Vulcan High Command," T'Jenn informed quietly.

"We must request that he not be allowed to return to his duties until after I am returned to Vulcan," the elder said, thinking out loud.

"With all due respect, father, I do not believe that would be the most logical course for us to take. Recent interaction with Selen has demonstrated his deep dedication to his occupation aboard the USS Seneca. To remove him in any capacity may prove mentally damaging for him. Selen's emotions are strong and he may be slow to recover," his daughter pointed out with perfect reason.

The Vulcan scientist took her words into careful consideration, "You neglect to recall that Selen has recovered from mental damage in the past."

"His mind only healed after he was assigned to Starfleet, father. Taking it away from him may re-open the wound. Moreover, I know Captain Hart very well. He is the sort of man to ask questions. If one of his highest ranking officers was to be suddenly reassigned only during your time upon the ship, he would draw his own conclusions," T'Jenn reminded.

"So it would seem that the only decision left to us is to let this interaction run its course." There was a level of defeat this time when the older Vulcan man spoke.

He took a moment to study his daughter, then, realizing that there was more to everything than just the secret they shared. Something else was troubling her, making it hard for her to discipline herself against emotion. She was a young Vulcan still and that could be expected from time to time, but the scientist had never known his daughter to be someone who struggled with it. T'Jenn had always been resolute and firm while she still resided on Vulcan alongside him and his wife, T'Penna. His sudden thinking led him to believe that perhaps fatherly warmth was a sensation that went deeper into the psyche than even emotion. He couldn't quell the distinct sense of…concern for his child.

He sighed, the lines on his stern face shifting, "You are still troubled, daughter."

T'Jenn looked stricken before at last she responded, "Being near to Selen has made my control falter, father. I feel anger towards him…I…resent him. Sometimes I do not even know that I am feeling it until it burns hot in my mind. It is frightening to share a bond with him and to feel his emotions as a part of me. On Vulcan it was easy to ignore simply because he was far from me. I could immerse myself in our customs and I knew peace. When he is near, I forget myself."

There was no sympathy for her father's face, for he could not understand what she was going through. He had no basis for comparison and so logically, there could be no sympathy. However, he did understand on some basic, parental level that even Vulcan discipline could not shut out.

"I have been considering logical options, father, and I have come to only one realistic conclusion," T'Jenn continued, "I must relinquish my duties aboard the Seneca and return to Vulcan with you. This is the world that Selen has chosen for himself and it is not a world where I have found I can succeed."

There was no great outburst of questions from her father, save one, "How do you intend to tell your Captain Hart of this absence?"

"I do not yet know. I feel that it would be premature to design plans on how to brooch this delicate matter right now," T'Jenn answered, her former almost-emotional state locked away in memory, never to be brought up again.

"Why do you believe this?"

"It is always illogical to attempt to solve a problem without possessing knowledge of all variables. For instance, I do not yet have information regarding the safety of Selen's secret, nor of how the Captain may react should he discover it. I must approach the subject of my resignation with care and take into consideration how Captain Hart may or may not receive it."

"You are taking the emotions of the Captain into account?"

"Of course, Father. Humans are, after all, emotional creatures. To forget such an important detail would be imprudent," T'Jenn said.

The older Vulcan nodded sagely as he digested the words of his child, beginning to walk again, knowing that T'Jenn would follow. She had always done so throughout her young life, always attempting to follow him as best she was able. It gave him reassurance for the future to know that T'Jenn would always strive to be a paragon of Vulcan society no matter what difficulties were presented to her. She would simply take her father's lead (or her mother's) and take the path most acceptable for her people. The man had always known that her willingness to work towards the whole, coupled with her devilishly quick intellect, would serve her well and he only felt it disappointing that circumstances had not allowed for a better education. Instead of applying to the Vulcan Science Academy, she had found herself forced into the service of Starfleet for reasons beyond her control.

He could not help but suspect that it had been a terrible and unnecessary waste of a young mind.

They tread lightly and walked in silence, no one noting their coming or going. The peculiar pair traversed the halls of the sprawling science complex, idly taking in the sights and taking a moment to properly mull over the information that they had shared. Were they in a more private place, they would have melded, but such a thing was too intimate for so open a location. Instead they went along in companionable quiet, looking out of windows and eventually out of a door. The brisk bite of a temperate Californian autumn hit them both squarely and neither could contain the barest twinge of discomfort before shifting their heavy clothes.

All around them, humans went on their many different ways, laughing, talking, whistling humming and making a great myriad of unfamiliar noises. There was the soft scent of flowers in the air carrying over from Starfleet Academy, making the air feel heavy with their perfume. Occasionally, the barest tang of salt would mix with the aroma of late blossoms and it hit T'Jenn's nose in a funny way. It was a scent that she had become accustomed to after years stuck here in the ever-shifting confines of Earth, but it was so alien that it always managed to distract her. Nothing on Vulcan smelled that way.

So pulled from her reverie, T'Jenn stopped in a patch of sunlight to query, "Father, why do you choose to travel with the Seneca? Surely any number of transport vessels could have seen you safely back to Vulcan by this time."

"So you do not believe the explanation that I gave to Captain Hart?"

"No I do not. I know you too well, Father. If there were still work to be done, you would not be here conversing with me. You would be in a laboratory seeing to it," T'Jenn informed him in no uncertain terms.

"You are correct, then. It is true that I finished my work long ago and I have merely been awaiting a suitable transport to return me to Vulcan. You see, T'Jenn, the information I have found in my studies is very dangerous and it must not ever be yielded to anyone," her father said, dropping his voice.

His daughter arched one thin eyebrow, "Dangerous? Father, is it that you have found?"

"It is nothing that I am free to speak of here. I intend to present it before the Council of Elders to deem whether or not it is worthy of destruction," his weathered brow furrowed ever so slightly.

"You have found a knowledge worthy of destruction? What intelligence in all the universe could be worrisome enough to eradicate completely?" T'Jenn asked, eyebrows raised high.

There was a moment of hesitation before the male Vulcan reached up. Under the guise of brushing hair from his daughter's face, he swiftly placed his fingertips against the meld-points. It was not a long connection, barely long enough to properly convey what was needed, but still long enough to transfer the gist of what he had found. In an instant the meld was broken and his hands were tucked safely into the sleeves of his robes once more, mirroring his daughter carefully. That little bit…that barest flash of insight…it had been enough. T'Jenn understood.

She looked sharply at her father, "Should anyone learn of this…the Romulans or the Klingons…"

"They may already have their suspicions. I was very unwise when I first stumbled upon this revelation, T'Jenn. I was not as discreet as I should have been. Many were aware that I had chanced upon something of great importance and that, just as suddenly as I had found it, I was attempting to conceal it."

"You believe that the Seneca will protect you."

"I believe that the Seneca has the potential to protect the universe from the knowledge that I now possess. After all, is that not what the USS Seneca was commissioned for? Is its purpose not the protection of those who seek to protect peace?"

"Will the crew be informed?" T'Jenn asked, her voice soft in an effort to be quiet.

Her father nodded, "Only the officers that you feel are trustworthy. I believe that they should be well aware of what is at stake so that they are better prepared to defend what it is that I must take for judgement."

"Does mother know?"

"T'Penna knows only that she must not know," the scientist said gravely.

"For her own safety."

"For the safety of all. You know well the warring ways of many races in this universe. You know well what they would do to obtain knowledge that they believed could be used for their own benefit. If your mother knows nothing, then there is nothing that can be taken from her."

T'Jenn lowered her head in acquiescence, understanding her father's logic. In some secret corner of her psyche that had been too long steeped in the Earth's emotional tides, she felt the need to offer a prayer…a wish. She felt that shameful corner of her quietly wishing for strength, for the Seneca's strength. If half of what she had seen in her father's mind was to be believed, then what he now carried on his shoulders was a ticking time-bomb with the potential to take whole civilizations with it. A delicate trust had been placed on the crew and if they couldn't live up to that rare emotion, there were grave consequences.

They were consequences that every soul existing in this Universe or any other would suffer.

~***~

In the end, the crew had been granted no less than three days of shore leave down on earth. Despite the fact that T'Jenn's father had actually finished his work long ago, they kept up the easy façade of his continued studies so that no suspicions were aroused. There were still tracks to be covered and small items here and there in the halls of Starfleet Science to be stored away, carefully catalogued and possibly never seen again. It was a clandestine business that the two undertook now, breaking apart the pieces of the puzzle that the older scientist had worked for so many years to put together and hopefully making such a mess of it this time that no one else could ever accomplish the same feat.

The nature of their new task ensured that the rest of the crew had plenty of time away from the Seneca down in the sunshine of Earth.

Still, the last day of any shore leave was a time for collection one's things and what small things that had been accumulated during the vacation. There would be several trips from the ship and back to Earth over and over just to make sure that everything was in order before the next long stint out in the vast reaches of space. The last day of shore leave was usually a busy day full of adrenaline or excitement and anticipation. Sometimes it was a sad day, but it was certainly never a boring day. Aaron Hill, for one, was glad to have the heady pulse of 'get-up-and-go' back in his veins.

He and Zoe had returned to the USS Seneca about three minutes earlier, the latter's arms laden with small things that she had picked up on the surface for herself and her partner in the Sickbay. There were a few books there, a few small tools and a poster jutted out from beneath the crook of her arm. The Commander wrinkled his nose up at the poster in particular and Zoe couldn't help but laugh a little bit at his expression.

"Is something wrong, Aaron?" She asked teasingly.

"Did you have to get that poster for Lenny? It's disgusting," he said, almost tempted to edge away from the offensive thing.

From experience, most of the squeamish members of the ship had learned to give the Seneca's Medical Lab a wide berth thanks to the morbid fascination of its resident scientist. For years, Len had worked to locate posters and pictures of obscure diseases and how they affected the body. There were anatomical graphs, medical posters, even personal photographs from his days at Starfleet Medical Academy all posted neatly up on the walls and he claimed that he liked to have them all around for reference whenever he was dealing with a virus. Nobody truly doubted him although a few of them wondered if he didn't get some glee from watching their noses curl in disgust. Aaron himself was not a terribly squeamish kind of guy, but he still rather wished that their Xenovirologist loved his work just a tad bit less, thankyou-very-much.

Zoe chuckled, "I'm sorry if it bothers you, Aaron. I just wanted to find something for him since he didn't get a chance to make it down to the planet."

"Guy's a workaholic, Zoe. How does he do it?" The Commander shook his head.

The ship's CMO shrugged a little bit, "I wish I could tell you. His health is always perfect. I've never actually seen him in the Sickbay for treatment and I've been working there for years…longer than he has anyway."

"Wait…never seen him…? Zoe, doesn't the guy still get his physicals like everyone else?"

"Of course he does. I haven't ever given him one, but he and a nurse always see to it that he gets them on time and they're always perfect," the blonde woman said.

"Which nurse?"

"Aaron, is there something on your mind?" Zoe paused and looked straight up at the taller Cajun man.

Aaron Hill paused, realizing how overzealous he had probably just sounded to the Chief Medical Officer and he tried to make up for it, "I wasn't doubting you or anything, Zoe…it's just that Joe brought something up the other day right before we left for shore leave."

Zoe listened quietly, so Aaron went on, "You know that Lenny is one of Joe's best buddies on the ship, but ever since that thing with the freighter, T'Jenn's been acting kind of bizarre. I know, I know, she ALWAYS acts bizarre, but…"

"But she's been focusing it on or around Len since then," Zoe finished for him.

"You noticed?"

Zoe's expression was soft, "Len is my best friend on this ship next to you and Joseph. I can't help but notice when something is going on around him."

"Are you worried, Zoe?" Aaron said, blinking when he noticed that concern beginning to creep across the French woman's baby-blues.

When the CMO didn't say anything, Aaron realized that this may not be the best thing to discuss on their very last day of shore leave. After all, everything had been so good so far. He and Zoe had managed to do quite a bit…spending time down at the bay, walking the grounds of Starfleet Academy and looking at all the fresh young faces fighting to get their own place on a starship…hell, he'd even spent a day at Starfleet Medical looking through PADDs with only Zoe's enthusiasm to see him through the ordeal. Sure, they'd spent some time apart too, but the whole vacation had been too nice to spoil with worries and concerns in their final hours of free-time. The Commander put a hand on her shoulder.

"So…what else did you get?" Aaron asked.

He earned a grateful look for his efforts to change the subject, "I found some old-fashioned medical textbooks that the Academy deemed were too obsolete for use. I got permission to keep them for their historical purposes. I'm going to keep them in my room for light reading."

"And those ugly looking tools?"

"Archaic medical instruments dating back to the 1800's. I was planning on asking Leila to mount them for me so I could display them on a wall," Zoe smiled, clearly enjoying her new acquisitions.

Aaron shook his head, blowing air through his nose, "You and Len…both in love with your work."

"The best doctors usually are," Zoe teased right back.

"Was that ego I just heard there, Miss Adele?" The ship's first officer gave her a playfully incredulous look.

Zoe's laughter was practically infectious, "You'll appreciate that ego the next time you decide to get too close to a frightened sehlat."

The two playfully bickered and bantered the rest of the way to the Sickbay and probably beyond.

~***~

On the planet's surface, Oliver, Leila, Brigitta and Celia all walked by the bay where Zoe and Aaron had spent their first day. The two helmsmen were trying to soak up the last halcyon hours here on terra firma before it was time to go. Leila had Oliver's young daughter perched up on her shoulders while Oliver himself walked along, holding his wife's small hand. Over the past few days, Celia had been quickly endearing herself to the navigator and Leila found that she would have almost as hard a time as Oliver returning to the Seneca without the girl. She found Celia to be quite open-minded and eager to learn when it came to ancient history, something she had discovered while showing the family around the museum her sister helped to run. Leila had already resolved to send her something for her birthday, perhaps something interesting from an alien world.

Leila felt the breezes off of the water blowing her sari about her ankles and she lamented that she would be returning to her uniform soon.

Oh well…at least the return to the ship would be easier for her than it would be for Oliver. Aside from her sister, Leila had no family still living. To her, Earth was just a place. True, it was a place of rich cultural history and great familiarity, but in the end it was just another place. Leila was an erudite woman with a consciousness as wide as the universe itself, the sort who could be comfortable anywhere when all was said and done with. There had been a time when she had almost ended up as a researcher with her parents many years ago instead of working with Starfleet. As a matter of fact, it was only their untimely deaths at an excavation several years ago that had pushed her towards Starfleet. She had wanted more time around her sister with their deaths so fresh and training at the Academy had given her that gift. Of course, knowing what she did now, Leila knew that she wouldn't change a thing.

In her silent reverie, Leila acknowledged that the friendships she had cultivated on the Seneca were far too important in her life to just ignore. Working alongside that dedicated crew and the dignitaries that they occasionally catered to, she felt as though she'd been granted quite an interesting life. She had seen so many cultures and could personally say that she had worked towards perpetuating interactions with them. She and Oliver were the same in that way. There were other places that they could be, but only this place on the Seneca gave them the ability to affect great change…to do something meaningful. Perhaps that was why, out of all the men and women aboard the Seneca, she felt that her fellow helmsman was truly her best friend.

Of course, it didn't hurt that he had one of the most charming families that she'd met in a long time.

"Miss Leila," Celia asked as she traced the swirling wood grain of the small plugs in the woman's lobes, "Why are the holes in your ears bigger than the ones in mine?"

"It is an old tribal custom of the ancient civilizations that I thought was pretty," Leila explained, not minding the innocent exploration of her idiosyncrasies.

The little voice floated down from her shoulders, "Like the American Indians or the Africans?"

"Yes. Just like that, only a little smaller," the woman said, smiling, "I'm surprised you remembered that! You're quite the little sponge."

Oliver smiled a little as he heard the two talking, squeezing his wife's hand and watching as Starfleet headquarters loomed every closer. When they reached it, he would be forced to leave his family at the doorstep and return to his military life. He was only grateful that he wouldn't have to make that trip alone. He'd have Leila there with him every step of the way, even up to their neighboring seats on the bridge.

Brigitta laid a hand on her husband's bicep, "You will remember to send us a message when you reach your next destination, right?"

"Always, meine liebe. I do not know where we are going yet, but I promise that as soon as we get there, you and Celia will be the first to know," Oliver told her as honestly as he could.

"We are going to miss you again," Brigitta said, not to put guilt on her husband, but instead to express their continued strength as a family.

Oliver traced her cheek with one knuckle, "I will miss you as well, Brigitta. It is always lonely in space without your smile. Although you know…for Celia's sake…have you ever considered getting her a pet? Maybe a puppy? A girl her age should have a companion."

His wife smiled secretly, clearly considering the idea. There was a glint in her eyes suggesting that she'd already made a decision and that there would be a surprise waiting for their daughter when they returned to Berlin. Oliver had always loved that little sparkle Brigitta's eyes had when she was considering a special treat or when she was keeping a secret. It made the blue of her eyes that much deeper and more mysterious. It made them look larger in her thin face. Of course, in Oliver's opinion, there wasn't much the woman could do to make her look UN-attractive…so he was a little bit biased. Love tended to do that to a man.

Leila watched the couple stare lovingly at each other while they walked onwards, very nearly to Starfleet headquarters by this point. She had always been touched by how deeply Oliver seemed to feel the dedication to his wife. He spoke of them often in the down-time between their shifts when the two of them spent time together. Leila had always known about her co-workers family, but she was still staggered by the weight of their feelings for one another after the chance to finally see them acting as a unit. She made a mental note to spend a little bit of extra time with Oliver on the ship during her leisure periods to make sure that he didn't have time for the melancholy that might set in after being separated from his family all over again.

The closer they got to Starfleet headquarters, the more Celia seemed to stare at it.

At last, Leila asked, "What are you staring so hard at, Celia?"

"Daddy's office," Celia replied easily.

"I know you don't want to say goodbye to daddy yet, Celia…" Brigitta said softly, mistaking her daughter's fascination for dread.

Celia shook her head, blonde curls bouncing, "No…that's not it. I wanna work there too, someday. I wanna be just like daddy. It's such a pretty building."

Oliver felt a twinge of pride, "Well, if you want to work in that pretty building someday, you have to work very hard at your schooling and pay very good attention to your mother. Only people who are very smart and very well behaved are allowed to work there."

"I know, papa. You and Miss Leila work there."

The tenderness in Oliver's eyes was without equal and Leila had to admit that she felt a little bit of herself melting at the girl's sentiment as well. In a way it was humbling to realize that she had such high expectations to live up to, but on the other hand there was something…bracing about it. It was empowering to realize that they were in a position where people actually cared about what they said and did. In a way, it was like having their own little slice of immortality and to a woman so interested in the history of worlds, almost nothing was more important.

Knowing all of that made it worth it to watch Oliver hug his wife and daughter goodbye when they finally reached the doors of Starfleet headquarters.

Once the tearful farewells were all said, Leila Adair and Oliver Wolfram walked up those steps and into the doors together. There was no indecision or pause. They were proud Starfleet Officers once more and nothing would make them doubt the importance of that.

~***~

By the time evening began its steady approach over the western seaboard, the Seneca was back up to full man-power. It was bristling with life again, full of energy and the vital human quality that made it one of the most successful diplomacy vessels in the fleet. Captain Hart stood behind his chair, running a powerful hand over the back of it and savouring the sensation of being back with his first love. Of course he had enjoyed being back on the soil of home, but it paled in comparison to standing on his Bridge and seeing everything in the neat, working order he had come to expect from his crew. He saw Oliver and Leila in their usual seats, chatting as companionably as always, he saw Aaron leaning on a console and staring at one or two screens to make sure they were in order and Joseph Hart knew for a fact that Zoe and Len were running final configurations on Sickbay equipment together.

It was a well-oiled machine.

No…no it was more than that. There was more life to this ship…to this CREW than just machinery all fitting together. Any old freighter crew could fit together and do their jobs, but what he had here? It was almost like family. Family, Hart knew, would hold together like no collection of well-trained strangers ever would. It was an awe-inspiring feeling.

Commander Hill called from where he was monitoring the panels, "Hey, where is T'Jenn, Captain?"

"Lieutenant T'Jenn will be along shortly. She was asked to escort our passenger aboard the Seneca and see to it that he was comfortable," Joseph replied, settling into the captain's chair.

"Well, shit. Our little girl is getting' important under our noses!" Aaron chuckled in reply.

"So it would seem," Joseph laughed.

"Would such an important young frau know where we are headed, Captain? I am going to need to know if I am going to enter our coordinates into the ship," Oliver said in jovial tones.

The captain nodded, glad to hear the good cheer, "Well, I don't know whether or not she is aware, but I can certainly tell you, Mr. Wolfram. Set a course for Vulcan."

"Vulcan!" Aaron barked, looking surprised.

Before Captain Hart could respond, the doors to the lift whooshed open and the two occupants stepped out, the door closing swiftly behind them. The Bridge seemed to go a little bit silent as the crew turned to see that it was none other than T'Jenn and her formidable father. Both of them standing shoulder-to-shoulder were an imposing sight and a few ensigns who had been closer to the lift were quick to get out of the way and give them a wide berth. The two Vulcans together were creatures of still, dark eyes and straight backs, their faces smooth of any emotion whatsoever. They seemed to carry an air of solidarity around them like a well-beloved cloak and it settled over the rest of the crew as T'Jenn broke from her father's side to sit at her post without a word.

In an instant, Captain Hart was out of his seat and nodding his head politely to the Vulcan male, not bothering with a handshake, "We are pleased to have you aboard, sir. I take it that Lieutenant T'Jenn has made you familiar with our facilities?"

The man nodded once, "My daughter has seen to it that I am well acquainted with the USS Seneca. Also Captain, you may address me as Sova."

Joseph Hart seemed to take the news of their relation in stride; however, other people on the Bridge were a little bit less…dignified.

For his part, Aaron Hill almost choked, "…Daughter?"

T'Jenn arched an eyebrow at the Commander, "Indeed."

The rest of the Bridge was relatively silent in something that closely resemble awkward silence, but luckily their Captain was there to pick up the social slack that their shock left, "I had not realized that our esteemed guest was the father of our Communications Officer. Since that is the case, I am twice as glad to have you aboard, Sova."

Sova merely nodded again, but it did not seem to faze Hart. After all, the man was not only a Vulcan, but a scientist as well. The Captain hadn't exactly been expecting anything by way of emotion. He took no umbrage to it.

"You have Medical Officer Lieutenant Commander Len aboard this ship, do you not, Captain?" Sova inquired in the typical straightforward manner of his people.

"He is stationed aboard the Seneca, yes. He should be in the Sickbay with our Chief Medical Officer right now if you wish to speak with him, Sova," Hart offered, settling back into his chair to begin overseeing preparations for takeoff.

In the abrupt manner shared by his daughter, the Vulcan scientist turned and walked out of the room, clearly headed to the Sickbay. After he was gone, Aaron Hill snorted and rubbed his shoulders, a silent taunt about the temperature in the room. He wandered over to lean on the back of the Captain's chair, watching T'Jenn and considering. What in the hell did that frigid scientist want with Lenny, anyway? Aaron's brows drew down together as he tried to piece all of it together. Len acting weird, T'Jenn involved, T'Jenn's father suddenly wanting to see their resident Xenovirologist…not to mention all the strange information Zoe had given him. It floated around his brain and gave him quite a serious sort of expression. Aaron Hill was rarely a man for wearing serious expressions. For a moment, Joseph Hart looked up to share his unspoken curiosity, but it remained simply that…unspoken.

~***~

"Zoe, we need to re-calibrate the monitor on the back bed. It's reading my heart rate all funky," Len said, pursing his lips at it and staring hard at the offending machinery.

"Funky, Len? Your ever-present grasp of advanced medical terminology never ceases to amaze me, really," Zoe teased back, sitting in a chair with a PADD in her lap, scribbling away with a stylus.

Len raised an eyebrow at her, "Har-har, Zoe."

"You know that I'm only teasing, Len. Alright, we'll get to work on calibrating that after I finish making this supply list. I need to make sure we've got all the things we need before we pull out. It's not too late to put in a last minute request."

"How about something to kill this headache I've been nursing for the past few days? A bourbon perhaps?" Len asked with a smirk curling on his lips.

The door behind them swished open so quietly that they almost didn't know it had done so until a voice spoke up, low and rumbling behind Len, "I did not realize you had taken to human vices, Selen."

Just like that, Len froze as though he'd been stricken by a bolt of lightning. His eyes went wide and then narrowed dangerously, his hands slowly curling into fists. Zoe watched it happen and it was like watching a hurricane descend with little warning. Alarm crept across her face as she realized the first signs of rage and fear beginning to touch her coworker's normally placid face. She didn't know what to do or what she was supposed to do. There was no precedent for this sort of situation, no warning. All she could do was stand there staring at her small friend and at the taller Vulcan man standing behind him.

She was quick to react when Len hissed out low, "Zoe…please leave."

The blonde woman with the golden skin nodded softly and walked past him, gently touching his shoulder before disappearing out the door behind Sova. Without her warming presence, the room was suddenly very cold and very hostile. Slowly, Len turned and leveled a severe glare at the Vulcan man who had dared to invade his territory. A blind man standing behind a titanium wall behind a quantum singularity would have been able to tell that he was practically radiating animosity, but Sova, a true Vulcan native, did nothing to show that this anger affected him in any real way.

When Len spoke again, it was with venom, "What are YOU doing on this ship?"

"I am en route back to Vulcan. I requested the use of a Starship and its crew to safely return me to my planet of origin," Sova replied with utter, neutral logic.

"Damnit, why the Seneca, then?" Len glared, "You taught me too well for me to just assume that it is a coincidence."

"Affirmative. It is no coincidence that I am aboard the ship you and T'Jenn serve on."

"What do you WANT from us?" Len looked like a caged tiger. He was ready to lunge at any weakness the man gave him.

"Have you chosen to neglect the information which should be most important to you right now, Selen? This ship is on a course for Vulcan."

Immediately, the anger seemed to drain from the small scientist and the tension that had built up along the back of his shoulders slowly unwound. All of the vehemence drained from him, the hot rage in his system slowly replaced with cold dread. It was like an infernal sort of transfusion, taking away his strength and replacing it with uncertainty and weakness. For a moment, Len felt that his knees were too weak to support him and he moved to sit on one of the beds, lowering his head into his hands and taking a deep breath. The whole time, Sova simply stood there, seeming remarkably unaffected by the display.

Len's voice trembled this time, his fire lost, "…I can't go there."

"I am aware, Selen."

"Joe…"

"Captain Hart is unaware of your unique situation."

"Oh God…"

Len was acutely aware of the fact that the man was staring at him. He wasn't responding or even really caring for all that Len knew. He was simply scrutinizing and it had the same maddening effect on him as when T'Jenn did it.

He could feel his teeth grinding, "You stare at me like T'Jenn does."

"You have become a difficult creature for us to understand, Selen."

The hurt that passed over the younger scientist's face was apparent and only caused the old Vulcan to stare again, almost awkwardly.

"I blame you for this," Len hissed out tensely after he had time to regain his composure…and his pique.

"That is a most illogical conclusion, Selen," Sova chided.

"Bullshit it is! We're going to Vulcan because of you! You found some way to weasel yourself onto our ship and now we're going to Vulcan and you damn well know that I can't go there! Of course it's logical to blame you!"

"Is it not also logical that I should choose the USS Seneca as my mode of conveyance? It is lauded as the foremost diplomatic vessel in Starfleet. Beyond that, Selen, to assign blame in this case is base, petty and without reason."

Len pushed himself up from the table he had been slumped on, feeling a little bit stronger now. He strode past the man invading his Sickbay, locking eyes with him for a mere moment before continuing on. He walked to stand in the door to the adjacent lab, retreating to his inner sanctum and praying that the Vulcan man wouldn't dare follow him in there. It was cowardly, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up his dubious control if he remained here.

"Yeah? Well I'm in a pretty petty mood right now."


	3. The Grand Masquerade

The Seneca Missions  
Chapter Three: The Grand Masquerade  
Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All original characters and scenarios still belong to me, just like the canon characters still belong to Paramount. I get no money from this, only enjoyment.

Warning: Still not using a Beta Reader, still fraught with typos, still half awake.

The Story So far: After a brief shore leave in San Francisco, the crew of the Seneca has set a course for the planet Vulcan. Captain Hart still faces unanswered questions about his dearest friend, Aaron has had time to deepen his relationship with Zoe and T'Jenn has had a rendezvous with her enigmatic father. After a brief confrontation with T'Jenn's father, Len's unknown dark side is slowly coming to light in a troublesome way.

~***~

The scene in the Captain's Ready Room was perhaps the most awkward in many years of harsh diplomacy. It was a culmination of nearly a week of solid antipathy aboard the ship all being brought into one crowded room. After the scene in the Sickbay, Len had refused to leave as long as T'Jenn and Sova were still around. Zoe hadn't had a clue how to treat the delicate matter, so she'd simply said nothing and allowed Len's sour mood to fester. Aaron had been absolutely sick with two Vulcans aboard and Joseph had been too busy trying to juggle all of the parties involved to have much of a moment's rest. As it was, he hadn't been terribly comfortable with calling all of them together for a meeting, but Sova had insisted on the briefing. Now, they all sat around one rectangular table, two or three faced with a small viewer which was blank for the time being.

Despite that fact, Len still stared at the screen in front of him with dogged determination. He was doing anything to avoid looking across the table to where Sova and T'Jenn sat like a united front of rancor. Zoe sat next to him, casting him the occasional worried glance. She couldn't recall a time ever seeing her co-worker so vexed. Of course she had seen him excited, even stressed from time to time, but he had never shown the capacity for hostility. She had never seen him GLARE the way he did at T'Jenn and her father…almost as though he was fighting down a compulsion for violence in their presence. It almost frightened her.

Captain Hart had noticed it as well…the looks of anger and fear…and he had resolved to do something about it later. However, right now, he had a briefing that needed seeing to. His agitated Medical Officer would have to wait.

Making sure that his sense of decorum was firmly in place, the statuesque captain of the USS Seneca turned to his scientific guest. He motioned to the man, giving him the floor. After all, it was Sova who had requested the meeting in the first place. Captain Hart was just as much in the dark as everyone else in the room. If anything truly important was to be said, it fell to the Vulcan scientist to say it. He watched in anticipation as the older creature rose from his seat, hands hovering near the table after straightening out his clothing.

Every head turned to regard the Vulcan as he began to speak, "I have requested that Captain Hart call together his most trusted officers as I feel that it would beneficial to this mission for you to know fully what lies ahead."

"You mean 'what we're getting into'," Commander Hill said tersely.

"If that is how you wish to express it, then yes," Sova said, completely untouched by the wary edge that had crept into the First Officer's voice.

"We were led to believe that this was a simple courier mission, Sova," Captain Hart said as politely as he could manage.

T'Jenn spoke now, "We were aware that it was a courier mission, Captain, however the difficulty of that mission was never expressed in words."

Len's lips thinned into a visible line of disdain, but he kept himself quiet as Sova began to speak once more, "If you were misled, it was only out of necessity for the success of this mission, Captain. You see, this is a matter that must be handled with extreme secrecy and delicacy. If it could be helped, I would not speak of this matter at all to you or your crew; however I have deduced that it is for our mutual benefit that you be aware of the danger."

Sova turned his head in curiosity as Len bristled at the words, but he simply continued as though nothing had disrupted him, "You see, Captain, this return to Vulcan is neither scheduled nor routine. It is, in simplest human vernacular, an emergency escape."

"Perhaps it would be best if you told us from the beginning?" Zoe ventured very calmly, taking all of the new information in stride as she usually did.

"That does seem prudent." T'Jenn intoned.

The older Vulcan nodded, standing straight as he dug deep into memory, "In the year 2240, 26 years ago by your human calendar, a research colony was established on the M-Class planet, Alpha Zed. The purpose of the colony was to determine the planet's suitability for expanded habitation. Researchers were to remain for a period of fifteen years, gathering data about flora, fauna and artifacts that may have existed from previous cultures. My bondmate, T'Penna, and I were among the researchers who founded the colony. T'Penna was a Xenozoologist and so looked to the fauna. I turned my attentions to the artifacts."

There were mixed reactions all around the table as Sova began to recount the history of this strange mission. For the most part, everyone there listened with rapt fascination. Joseph seemed to be trying to digest it all at once while Aaron hung on every word, waiting for the Vulcan to get to the damn point. Zoe listened with a quiet respect, Leila with a silent wonder. Lenny just looked bored, like he'd heard all of this before and didn't much care to hear it again. They hadn't yet stumbled on any sort of information that warranted his attention. He just stared straight ahead at his black viewscreen, waiting for something.

"The planet was, of course, pristine. I found no clues of previous civilizations anywhere that I chose to research," Sova continued. No one had to ask where it was that he chose to research. Knowing Vulcan determination, he probably researched the whole planet if he'd been given the time.

"However," he went on, "Where I found no evidence of previous existing civilizations, I found clear remnants of previous occupations. Whoever had been installed on Alpha Zed before us had been highly advanced and highly militaristic, more so even than the Klingons or the Romulans of our time. What has become of them now I cannot say for sure. I can only theorize that, based on the extensive damage around the ruins I discovered, that they may well have wiped themselves out."

"You say that they were highly advanced? What led you to this conclusion?" Captain Hart asked, fully absorbed now.

Sova inserted a colorful, square information disk into a drive at the center of the table, the screens springing from dormancy. Suddenly they glowed, lighting up the faces of those who sat nearest to them, displaying images and schematics of a nature almost beyond comprehension. T'Jenn had a viewer to herself, as did Len. The last of the viewers situated on the table went to Captain Hart and his First Officer, both of whom looked on with unveiled fascination and perhaps even a little bit of horror. Sova had stopped talking for the moment, content to let them digest the images that they had been given.

When he did speak again, it was brief, "That, Captain, is what convinced me."

"What…what are we looking at here, Sova?" Aaron Hill asked, feeling something cold settle like a lump of ice in the pit of his belly.

"You are looking at the catalyst for this unplanned flight back to Vulcan, Commander Hill. Precisely what it is you are seeing is a mystery that has taken me 26 years to solve," Sova said, sounding as grim as any Vulcan ever had.

"It looks like a weapon," Captain Hart said.

"It is, perhaps, the most devastating weapon civilized space ever knew," the elder Vulcan scientist confirmed, watching the faces around him.

Zoe tried to observe Len's viewer as calmly as she was able, but she found, after seeing the confusing thing, that she wasn't entirely able. She couldn't conceal the first bright sparks of confusion and dread that snuck into her eyes. As a healer, she tended to have an aversion to any weapon, but if this weapon was as powerful as Sova believed it was, then it was perhaps the most frightening thing she'd ever seen. She was confounded by the schematics, never having been any sort of engineer in her life, but Aaron Hill understood far better the nature of the thing that they were looking at. He froze up, stared, studied and tried to make sense of what was in front of him.

"I can see how it's supposed to work…but how in god's name does a thing like this even exist?" Aaron breathed.

"What is it?" Len spoke for the first time, his question tense.

"It's…it's like a giant conduit of antimatter…a singularity generator. My God…the targeting array on this infernal contraption is immense," Hill's hands were shaking as he placed them on the monitor, scrolling downward across schematic readings.

The thing that each person looking at the viewers could see was not unlike a monolith of the ancient times. It radiated straight upward towards the sky, a monstrosity of circuitry and sensors, of strange protruding, swiveling nozzles and fatality. It was a terrible thing to look at whether or not you knew exactly what the thing did. It was ugly and torturous to see, appalling once you understood precisely what it was capable of. T'Jenn already knew the nature of this beast thanks to her father, but the horror was only now dawning on Aaron Hill…and he was rapidly figuring out exactly what it was capable of.

"What…what are all these little nozzles, Aaron?" Zoe asked, pointing to some of the things sticking out on ball-joints from the obelisk itself.

Aaron had taken his hands from the monitor and had them pressed against his forehead now, fingers digging into his dark hair, "They're like gun-muzzles and they're linked to that sensor array. It…it's designed to target life-forms. If I'm not wrong and I pray to God in Heaven that I am, those muzzles are capable of firing a bullet of pure antimatter into any living being that thing targets…and imploding it…turning it into its own little black hole. How the devil they power the damn thing is beyond me, though."

Sova raised one eyebrow, "As I have said before, whoever first created this weapon was remarkably advanced."

"A weapon like this…it could take out entire civilizations," Len hissed, quickly turning his viewer away so he wouldn't have to look anymore.

Captain Hart still stared at his own monitor, "Well, whoever WAS using it seemed to have managed to destroy themselves."

"That would seem to be the logical deduction, Captain," Sova replied.

Leila considered the machine for a moment, "Now you said that it took you 26 years to divine the nature of this machine?"

"Affirmative. When I first happened across it, the machine was in ruins. It has taken me nearly three decades to work it back together in a way that made any logical sense," the scientist said.

Aaron gave the Vulcan man a dark look, "And now that you have? Now what? Your damn insatiable curiosity may have just resurrected a doomsday machine!"

"Which is why, Commander, I have elected to return to Vulcan to submit my findings before the Vulcan High Command with the recommendation that all knowledge of this tool be eradicated. I have, after 26 years of study, determined that there is no beneficial use that can be gleaned from this machine or its workings."

"You have to ASK to destroy information on this death-trap?!" Aaron growled.

"There are proper channels, Commander," Sova's voice was absolutely sure.

The First Officer slammed his fist down on the table, "To hell with proper channels! You've managed to perfectly reconstruct every possible instruction for the worst weapon I've ever seen! Any pirate or insurgent who found this would be sitting pretty with the key to conquering galaxies in their hot little hands!"

T'Jenn gave the man a sharp, hard look, "This is why my father has elected to seek out the aid of the USS Seneca. We are here to ensure that neither Sova nor any of this information goes anywhere but directly to Vulcan High Command. All physical findings have already been destroyed."

"Affirmative. All that remains is this," Sova pulled the disk from its port and the screens went dark again, the information gone.

Against the wall of father and daughter, Aaron found he had no proper resistance and so he went silent. He was an emotional, temperamental person, but he knew better than to make too much of a scene in front of his Captain and best friend. The fact that he disagreed, that he wanted to snap that little disk in half and destroy the findings entirely, was very clear, but remained unsaid. He folded his arms tightly over his chest and leaned back against the wall, trying to force himself to be calm. Damn the Vulcan people and their annoying habit of cleaving so desperately to the rules. He caught Len's eyes for a moment when he realized the Xenovirologist had been staring at him and the two shared a brief glance of agreement before the contact was broken again.

The room fell into a thick, uncomfortable silence.

At last, Joseph Hart cleared his throat, "Well now we understand what exactly is at stake. Everyone, you're dismissed back to your posts."

He watched as the crew started to rise before he added, "Lieutenant Commander Len, please remain behind. I wish to speak with you in private."

He could see the sudden tension that lanced up the subtle curve of the young man's back and he watched out of the corner of his eye as T'Jenn's eyebrow suddenly rose up. His suspicions were slowly being driven home. After a moment of hesitation, Len sat back down in his chair, watching as everyone else filed out…everyone save for Sova. The Captain of the Seneca felt his own surprised eyebrow rise up in response to the Vulcan's subtle refusal to leave and even Len found himself staring at the man. In an instant, the room seemed prepared to go to war.

"Sova, I had asked to speak to my Lieutenant Commander in private," Joseph said.

"I desire to speak to you in private about him, so this arrangement is truly the most logical choice, Captain."

All of a sudden, Lenny knew he was firmly in the hot seat and he reached up to tug at the edges of his knitted cap. He made a firm decision then and there not to look at either of them, but now he felt silly just staring at the blank screen. He opted for turning his chair a bit and finding the nearest blank wall to obsess over, just praying that this would be somewhat painless. He could feel paranoia making his heart jump into his throat, struggling to get free. When it couldn't get out there, it settled for fluttering against his rib-cage like a startled bird. He felt his hand clenching up on the table next to him, his knuckles going white from the strain while Joseph Hart watched.

With a rising sense of unease, Hart said, "What is it you have to say then, Sova?"

"The one you call Len is not permitted to set foot on Vulcan," Sova said with crushing honesty.

"I beg your pardon?" Hart asked in shock.

Sova repeated himself, adding a little this time, "Lieutenant Commander Len is on strict orders from Vulcan never to set foot on its surface."

Len's shoulders tightened and Joseph pursued the matter, "Sova, I realize that Len has been terse towards you and your daughter, but I do not see that this is necessary. He is a trusted member of my crew."

The Vulcan waved it off, "It is not because of his behavior that this restriction is in place. "

"Then what is the cause?" The Captain hedged.

"There is an unsavory history between us," Sova said and Len fought the urge not to flee.

For a moment, the silence returned and it was a terrible thing. Len could feel that Joseph was ticking things quietly into place with that impressive brain of his and he knew there was a storm brewing there. He bit his lower lip.

Len tried to smooth things over, "Captain…"

"I want to hear it from Sova," Hart cut him off abruptly.

His subordinate winced, but let the Vulcan speak, "There is not much that I am permitted to say. There are certain omissions that are necessary. What you CAN know, Captain, is that Len inhabited Vulcan for a brief period of time whereupon he experienced a period of madness and violence. He was removed."

"Banished," Hart amended.

"If you wish."

"Sova…if you would…" Hart's voice was strained as he subtly bid the scientist to leave. This time, his effort was rewarded.

Only the Captain and his Lieutenant Commander occupied the room.

Len still refused to look at his captain, "…I wasn't insane, you know."

"How many times have you called me friend over the years, Len?" Hart ground out, finding it hard to control himself.

"Too many to remember, Joe."

"And how many times have you MEANT it?"

"I don't ever say if it I don't mean it," Len's voice became slightly defensive.

He wasn't prepared for the hurt he saw in the Captain's eyes when the man's fists came crashing down on the table not an inch from him. Their noses were almost touching as the larger man leaned down into the doctor's face. There was real betrayal in those eyes and Len felt his gut burning with it. He had never meant to cause his dear friend pain. Not once…not ever had he even dreamed he would be the cause of such intense sorrow. He tried to distance himself from the hurt…tried to push himself further into his chair, but Joseph Hart was not going to let him escape.

"How does a man who claims to be my best friend hide his life from me for so long!?" Joseph growled.

Len tried to defend himself, tried to soothe his friend, "It was not a life, Joe. It was hell for me and it was only five years."

"He said that you were insane. That you were violent."

"Of course I seemed insane to him! He's a Vulcan and I was a scared, lonely kid on a world where emotion is taboo! Of course I was crazy. Of course my anger seemed violent to him."

The Xenovirologist was experiencing real fear. Joseph Hart was a man of great serenity and control. He had faced down armed Klingons and lived to laugh about it. Hell, he'd done things in his life that most men would never even fathom and yet here he was, seemingly on the edge of a breakdown all over a secret. True, it was one hell of a secret, but it was still unnerving. Len wasn't scared for himself, though…he was scared for the one man he trusted more than any other in the world. He'd never seen him like this and it caused the doctor acute pain to realize that it was he who had been the root of this emotional crack.

"Joe…please…calm down." Len said in a soft, unsure voice.

The Captain slowly moved to sink into a chair. The hot wave of rage that had claimed him only moments earlier seemed to be leaving him now and it left him a weaker man for it. He almost seemed to shake from the force of the adrenaline leaving his system in a rush, but Len had to admit that he was somewhat relieved. He had seen Joseph tired before and it was something that he could handle. The lines around his eyes were easy to process, but the hurt…the aggrieved mask his face had become just moments ago…it had almost been too much. Tentatively, Len reached out and set one slender hand on his Captain's shoulder. He was just consoled when Joseph touched his hand in return without trying to throw it off.

Seeming mollified, Joseph finally had the strength to say, "He said there were things that he had to omit."

"Yeah…there are still some things that you don't know," his doctor said softly and with great remorse.

"I'm going to guess that you can't tell me either?"

"Joe…it's a really complicated thing. You're my best friend. I mean that when I say it. I've traveled across space with you and I've almost died for you. Honestly, you're the most special person I know, but this thing…it's something for me and me alone. It's something I've worked hard to bury and it would hurt too much if my past came to haunt me any more than it already has," Lenny tried to explain.

He felt Joseph's touch move up to grip his wrist, listened when he spoke, "I can't say that you hiding something makes me feel comfortable, Lenny, but…putting you in pain doesn't sit right with me either. Let's just call this a Truce of Information."

Len smiled a bit and it was a relieved expression, "I think that'll be just fine, Joe."

The relief grew in his system when Joseph Hart actually smiled back at him, "It had better be. We'll be at Vulcan in a few hours and I don't have time to molly-coddle your emotions any more than that."

It was teasing and Lenny knew it, "You're a generous man, Captain."

"Get back to Sickbay, doctor," the Captain was fully himself again, rebounding like an acrobat after a fall, shooting his Xenovirologist a classic smirk as the other man retreated back to his post.

~***~

On the Bridge, Captain Hart hadn't had time to worry about his own private little insecurities. He had his lady love to worry about and right now that lady was currently dropping out of warp and settling into a comfortable orbit around Vulcan. Personal problems were forced to the back of his mind as he focused on making sure the Seneca was safely settled and his crew was prepared for the mission that lay ahead. He had already determined his landing party, though it felt a little bit empty without Len assigned to its ranks, now all he had to do was see to last minute arrangements. He smiled a little bit, looking at how the size of the Captain's Chair seemed to dwarf the small scientist currently occupying it.

Since Commander Hill refused to be left behind on this mission considering the near disaster of the freighter incident, Captain Hart had been forced to give the conn over to someone new. Naturally, his Lieutenant Commander seemed like a worthy choice.

He considered his landing party again. Aaron was there and he damn well knew why. Naturally, Sova was present and, as an apology for the forced stay on Earth, T'Jenn also accompanied. His last choice for the team had been made out of a desire for diplomacy. He had needed someone who had, as much as any human could, put their emotions away in the interest of learning. That, naturally, had led him to Leila. She was a woman fascinated with culture and knowledge, but yet austere enough so as not to offend the Vulcan sensibilities she would be forced to come in contact with. In short, it would be a delight for her and she would not offend the locals. It certainly didn't hurt that Sova already seemed to hold the woman in some sort of esteem. There really wasn't a better choice.

As an addendum to his list in Leila's defense, it didn't seem a bad idea to include a woman who had spent the better part of her young life studying martial arts.

In short, that left his landing party with two locals, two diplomats and three fighters if you fractured them all down into their individual faculties. Captain Hart considered his logic and found it quite sound especially considering that T'Jenn hadn't bothered to raise an argument. He always counted that as a marked success in his little book. Sure, he would have loved to have a medic somewhere on that team, but it just hadn't worked out that way thanks to circumstance so he took what he could get. Overall, what he got wasn't half bad. Now all he needed to do was get them all planetside before something unforeseen could occur as it so often liked doing when he had something particularly important to oversee. It would be easy enough considering that T'Jenn and Sova had already beamed down a bit earlier with one security officer to see that nothing happened during their brief split with the rest of the group.

Luckily, with the natives already on the surface it was like child's play getting clearance to beam down.

Things were a little bit less easy once they arrived and the first thing that every human present noticed was that Vulcan was almost unbearably hot. The only one who seemed even vaguely comfortable with the heat was Aaron and even he seemed to wince a little. Feeling the atmosphere of Vulcan on you was like sticking your face too close to a furnace for the first time, your cheeks blasted with winds hot enough to give you a burn. If the heat didn't get you, the gravity would and not even Aaron with his love of the Louisiana heat could compensate for that. Every human in the party was feeling the added weight on their shoulders, but they still managed to stand tall. They were officers of Starfleet and one thing such a position granted you was the ability to stand straight even when it seemed hardest.

Before the small group laid the city of Shi'Kahr, a city of the utmost importance to any Vulcan and a sprawling complex of spires pointed towards the orange sky. Even to the city-dwellers of Earth it was an impressive and majestic sight to see that tawny silhouette reaching for the burning sun, buffeted by the winds. Leila was almost immediately awed by the architecture alone, though she kept it to herself and filed it away in some part of her mind where it might be replicated in paint later. For now it was time to focus and such a thing was already hard in the harsh new environment without her romanticist fancies carrying her off. Even Captain Hart looked a little bit daunted by the environmental conditions they found themselves in.

It took a few moments for the humans to notice that they were not alone on the outskirts of the city. Standing before them was a tall, lithe woman who, by the looks of her, couldn't be anything other than Vulcan. She wore the robes of a lady, her hair the color of bitter cocoa and her eyes a flat, unwelcoming black. Her eyebrows were thinner than a man's and they arched upward at a much more delicate angle, the tips of her ears hidden beneath the veil of her straight locks. She wore the aloof expression their race was so often prone to and her hands were folded tightly at the small of her back. It seemed that she had been waiting for the rest of the Seneca's landing party to beam-down.

"Greetings, Captain Hart. I am T'Penna, bond-mate of Sova. He has instructed that I wait for you here in order to escort you to an appropriate rendezvous location," the woman said.

Commander Hill blinked, "This isn't the rendezvous location?"

"Negative. Sova arranged to beam-down here in order to avoid revealing the truth of his whereabouts," T'Penna replied easily, "Should anyone have been following you, they will arrive here only to find nothing. Follow me."

She led them only a little way away from the city to where an older shuttle rested in the sand. It was large enough to accommodate the party and it seemed to be in decent condition. A few dents pocked in the sides of the shuttle, but there was nothing to damage the overall integrity of it. It was only a short-range thing, never meant to leave the planet's atmosphere. Clearly they would simply be relocating to a different part of Vulcan.

Once they were all situated inside, the thing started up with the same strident whining that most engines did, kicking up sand as they began to pick up a little bit. Slowly, but rapidly gaining speed, the shuttle took off over the rough sands of Vulcan, leaving behind the outline of Shi'Kahr for the more mountainous outlands beyond.

"Where exactly are we supposed to rendezvous with Sova?" Captain Hart asked as he watched the desert whip past their windows, noting that he was quite glad to see them. After all, windows were a novelty on any sort of conveyance, usually replaced with viewers so as not to compromise the integrity of a ship's hull.

For a moment, the Vulcan woman was silent before she said, "The L-Iangnon Mountains. It is located beyond Vulcan's Forge and there are many hiding places appropriate for the clandestine nature of this meeting."

"It was a wise decision, T'Penna, however, should there be an emergency, my ship must know where to attempt transport," Hart replied smartly, immediately reaching for his communicator.

Hill noticed an odd tense in the woman's shoulders as she tried to turn before Joseph could open the communicator. She almost looked prepared to stop him until she caught the Commander's eyes on her and she abruptly turned back around, murmuring, "It is not wise to make others aware of our location."

Aaron snapped back, "I think the captain just gave you the logic behind why it IS wise. I thought you people were into that stuff?"

T'Penna's hands tightened reflexively on the controls to the shuttle, but she had no retort. Aaron's eyes narrowed, but he was quiet as well. Joseph needed to be able to communicate with the ship and he wouldn't be able to do that with the two of them bantering in the background. Still, he didn't ease up on the silent watching. Something about the woman made him a little bit uneasy, but he wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was just his overall apprehension with Vulcans getting to him again.

Joseph's communicator buzzed to life and Len's voice came through, ::Captain? Is everything alright down there?::

"Yes, Len. I just needed you to give some new coordinates to the Transporter Room. Sova decided to move our meeting to a more discreet location and I need you all aware in case something goes wrong."

::Where are you heading, Captain?::

"I'm afraid I don't have the exact coordinates of our new rendezvous point, but our pilot has told us that we are headed into the L-Iangon Mountains. Will that be enough information to lock onto, Len?"

::Should be. I've known engineering to do more with less.::

"Excellent. I'll be in contact as soon as we're ready to pull out."

Suddenly, T'Penna found her voice, "That would be unwise."

::Who was that speaking, Captain?::

"Our pilot, T'Penna," Captain Hart replied with curiosity.

There was a long radio silence for a moment and Hart almost feared that Len had ended the communication on him. The woman in the driver's seat seemed to be somewhat relieved, the tension seeping out of her narrow shoulders. It was suspicious, but Commander Hill wrote it off now that it seemed the moment was over. He supposed the stress could have come from something akin to fear. The communication DID run the risk of exposing her husband to whatever threats may have been out there…real or imagined. Then again…Vulcans did not experience fear…not that they would admit…not that he knew.

Suddenly, the communicator was alive again, ::…I believe that you are mistaken, Captain.::

"Say again, Len?"

::I said that you are mistaken. T'Penna cannot be your pilot.::

"May I ask why not, Mr. Len?"

::Because sir…T'Penna is blind. I should know.::

Suddenly, the entire ship seemed to go very cold despite the oppressive heat that was present. It was the cold of sudden realization settling over everyone present. For a moment there was complete silence and stillness within the shuttle. Every heart seemed to stop beating…and every pair of lungs ceased to continue drawing breath. It was the calm before the storm and slowly, carefully, Aaron Hill began to stand, clearly intending to end the silence and take action. His movement set off a chain reaction in the little vessel.

Before anyone could react, the woman who had called herself T'Penna slammed the controls violently to the side, sending all of her passengers sharply into the nearest hard surface. Aaron took the brunt of it, pitching over into a wall and breaking his nose before slumping at a crazy angle. Leila slammed into the wall, but suffered only a slight fracture when she used her arm to cushion the blow on instinct. Captain Hart managed only to land on his First Officer and was spared any injury but a bump on the head as the desert transport shuttle slammed into the ground and slid across the sands, caroming off a rock and sending them into a spiral. There was a moment of gut-clenching terror as everyone aboard had the vague idea that this hellish ride would end in something very close to a cataclysmic explosion. As it was, the terrible experience ended with a heavy blow and then an all-consuming black.

All was still again.

~***~

Up in the Enterprise, Len stared straight forward in shock as the communication cut off.

He turned slowly to the communications console, his eyes wide before whispering, "Is the channel still open?"

"Sir…" the young male ensign replied, "I can only deduce that the communicator has been destroyed…"

Len wanted to give in to the chilling panic that was starting to clutch at the back of his neck. He wanted to shove the ensign away from his post and battle with the controls until he could will the damn communicator back to life. Captain Hart was down there, possibly injured and with an impostor…and not communicating at all. Len wanted to run straight to the Transporter Room and get his ass down planetside, restrictions be damned…but he couldn't. He was acting Captain now and Starfleet Captains did not give into their base urges. He had to think and he had to do it quickly.

"Ensign Thorne, attempt to open a frequency with Lieutenant T'Jenn," he ordered quickly.

"Aye sir," Thorne replied, quickly toggling the switches and pressing the appropriate buttons.

There was another short period of waiting, but this one was quickly ended by the ensign at the communications station, "Sir, our frequency is being jammed. We cannot communicate with Lieutenant T'Jenn or Sova."

The heady panic was back, threatening to strangle the standing captain of the USS Seneca where he stood. As it was, he only held his chin a little higher and considered his alternatives. There were always alternatives. Lenny began to pace the Bridge restlessly and the ensigns were at least well enough versed in decorum to leave him to it until he could think of something. Only Helmsman Wolfram had the experience to offer an alternative.

"Len…Permission to beam down to the shuttle's last known coordinates?" Oliver stood smartly, regarding his superior with worried gray eyes.

The scientist turned to regard him for a moment, just staring before lifting a hand, "Permission granted. Take a phaser. Hell, take two. Something has clearly gone wrong down there."

"Aye sir…what are you going to do about Lieutenant T'Jenn and her father?" Oliver asked, quickly departing from his station to head towards the lift.

Len wanted to tell him that he would go, but it was an impossibility, so he simply shook his head and straightened his shoulders, "We will simply have to give them time, Lieutenant. Now go. I want regular status reports."

"Aye sir."

Oliver departed at a jog, leaving Len alone on the Bridge with none of his familiar comrades. He had only the ensigns who he had only seen in Sickbay when they needed tending…some faces he didn't even know at all. Suddenly it felt very lonely up there as he settled back into the imposing captain's chair and he felt a newfound respect for his old friend. How Joseph held up under this sort of strain day after day with that same smile on his face was quickly becoming a mystery. It was all Len could do to keep himself upright under the weight that rested across his narrow shoulders.

~***~

Down in Shi'Kahr, things looked a lot more bleak.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly for Sova and his daughter as they touched down near the city itself and found their way inside. It was not their home, so they had no lodgings here, but they were still scheduled to meet with the High Command soon. Lodgings were not needed. The pair walked with purpose into the main roads of the elegant city, both beautiful and strong from too many years sprawling in the sand-blasted desert. The pair blended well as they moved for this was their world and they were finally in their element, no longer lost among the stars. They were careful not to appear urgent and to feel no need to rush. Discipline, the idea of Tafar, was far too important here at home to forget and so they kept themselves well schooled despite the information they carried.

Nothing felt out of place.

Ahead of them, the headquarters of Vulcan High Command towered against the cloudless vault of the sky. Their destination was plain, but luckily they were somewhat lost amongst the others who walked the streets with them. No one even seemed to notice them until they had almost reached the doors of the great, brownish building and then it was only two others of their kind who stepped from the shadows to greet them. The two were composed and quiet, they greeted with no hostility and so they were not greeted with any in return.

The first, a male with short-cropped hair and severely thin lips spoke in a voice of grating gravel, "Sova, we have been requested to escort you. The elders have understood the nature and severity of the information you wish to disclose and they believe that privacy would be prudent."

Sova had nodded then, barely noticing as the two men flanked him and his offspring, beginning to lead them away from the building. Nothing seemed out of place, not yet. It seemed logical that the elders should want to conduct this meeting with some secrecy…yet the further they seemed to go, the less Sova understood. Why were the elders insisting on taking them so far away from the safety of Vulcan High Command? It was beginning to take on the first bitter tang of illogical thinking in the back of his mind and the elders did NOT indulge in illogical thinking. It seemed that Sova and T'Jenn's mind began to rebel together and their steps slowed. They still moved forward to prevent suspicion, but their pace was not what it had been.

At the mouth of an alley, they turned to break away only to discover a pair of disruptors pointed directly at them.

Romulans.

Two of the most logical minds on the Seneca had been tricked, no matter how briefly, by Romulans.

The first man spoke again, "You will come with us, old man. You and the girl. If you give us the schematics that we know you have, we will release you."

"You are lying," T'Jenn said blankly, "You gain nothing from letting us go free."

The second man smirked, "Perhaps not. However, you're not exactly in a position to negotiate right now. You will come with us."

"We will accompany you, however, our compliance now does not mean that we will yield the schematics at any point in the future," Sova said, pointing out the logic to the two.

That was when he felt it.

It was like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water direction into his brain and it nearly drove the elder to his knees. As it was, he couldn't contain himself from lifting his hands to his temples and letting out a low cry. He drew a breath in through his nose sharply and stumbled slightly until only the diligent hands of his daughter could hold him up. Sova sagged like a puppet with cut strings, his eyes slightly wild. The two Romulans who held the pair at disruptor-point only smiled grimly, clearly knowing something that their captives did not. T'Jenn felt a spike of something cold go through her and she looked sharply up at their captors.

The second backed them farther into the alleyway to avoid detection, one eyebrow raised up, "It would seem that the woman was not as resilient as we had at first anticipated."

"…You have slain my mother," T'Jenn said with a barren coldness to her tone. She did not feel the absence as strong, but the gentle touch of her birth-giver's mind no longer touched her own.

"If it is any consolation, her demise was always part of the plan. We simply had to wait until your father came to us before severing their connection so he would not suspect that anything was amiss," the first romulan said, seemingly unaffected if not a little amused.

"Right about now, our decoy T'Penna should be greeting your companions at the entrance of the city."

"You intend to kill them as well," T'Jenn said.

"In good time, perhaps. For now, all she needs to do is lead them astray long enough for us to deal with the two of you. Naturally, she has been authorized to use deadly force if any of your companions get any big ideas. To be honest, we're rather hoping that they do. It should prove interesting, don't you think?" The second taunted their prisoners.

"Enough," the first said, finally tiring of the game, "Get them moving."

Disruptors still held at the ready, the two Romulans moved their hostages out of the hub of Vulcan society and towards the edge of the city altogether. They went without notice, clearly having spent a decent amount of time memorizing the layout of the city, possibly for weeks or months before Sova had even arrived in Shi'Kahr. This deception had been a long one, well-planned and expertly executed by some of the most conniving military minds this side of the universe could offer up. T'Jenn was forced to support her father the entire way to the outskirts, holding him up when he could not hold himself, made weak by the loss of the woman he had called T'hy'la. If T'Jenn was a creature who could be moved by brutality, she would have been on her knees weeping by now. As it was, she could only soldier on, knowing that weakness would spell death for them and the only time one truly ran out of options was with death.

The winding, deceptive path took them out into the desert to where it seemed that nothing at all waited for them. Would they be interrogated here? Would they be shot here? Executed? Would their ashes be left to scatter on the hot Vulcan winds even before their companions knew what had befallen them? They could not know that almost at that exact moment, those very companions were crashed somewhere in the Vulcan Forge. The forced march continued. In the end, T'Jenn anticipated that it had, in fact, continued for 20.2 minutes before they were finally dragged to a halt, still lost in the ever-shifting nothingness of the desert wastes.

T'Jenn pointed this out and the Romulans laughed.

The air in front of them shimmered like a mirage, rippling and rolling with distortion until it seemed that the very air itself dropped away. It left in its wake a vessel very much like a shuttle, but far more sleek and dangerous looking. It was a cloaked ship for travel in the atmosphere of a planet…of course. T'Jenn could only study it for a moment before she felt the butt of a disruptor between her shoulder blades, urging her forward, up a ramp and into the ship itself. Inside, both of them were forced to take a seat, still staring down the barrels of the Romulan weapons. In her mind, the Lieutenant was calculating the odds for survival…and coming up woefully short.

The first Romulan spoke again, "We're going to grant you and father dearest a chance to grieve if your race is even capable of such a thing anymore. Use your time wisely."

Both of them departed from the ship although they surely still stood outside. Now was the only chance she would have.

Surreptitiously, the Vulcan woman drew her communicator from where it lay hidden in the folds of her robes. She flipped it open, finding the Seneca's frequency and attempting to make contact.

"T'Jenn to Seneca, do you read?"

Silence met her.

"I repeat. This is T'Jenn to Seneca. Seneca, do you copy?"

More silence.

T'Jenn flipped the communicator shut, realizing that the frequency was being jammed and she was completely cut off. Realizing the futility of attempting more, she put the communicator back where it had been and focused on saving her strength. She looked to her father and knew his pain even if he refused to speak it. It seemed that every avenue of escape had been seen to and cut off.

~***~

Amidst the rocky shale of Vulcan Forge, a man-shaped column of light sparked to life, sparkling briefly before depositing Oliver Wolfram in the desert. If coordinates of the beaming had served him correctly, the German officer would find himself no further than approximately fifty feet from where they had lost contact with the landing party. He took a moment to check his supplies and to make sure his phaser was fully charged before drawing the weapon and setting out through the rocks. He moved as fast as safety and caution allowed.

He was lucky. The engineers had been correct in their guess and it wasn't long before Oliver could see the wreckage of a small desert shuttle. Laying in the debris were several bodies and the very sight of them urged him to faster speeds, safety and caution forgotten. He rushed to an outcropping and slid down on a small wave of scree to the crash site. He already had a tricorder in his free hand and readily available in order to scan the remains at the site and see for himself precisely what had gone on.

The first body he saw was a woman and certainly not one he recognized. It was a Vulcan and by the looks of things she was dead, thrown headlong into a rock during the crash. Oliver felt a twinge of pity before moving on, gasping when he saw Leila half buried under a piece of wreckage. He moved her with delicacy and passed the tricorder over her, checking her pulse and feeling relief to know that she was still alive and well, save for some damages. He found that the rest of his crewmates were in much the same shape when pulled loose from their scrap metal prisons. There were some broken bones, some blood and lots of bruises, but no one had died and he counted his blessings for that. So far the worst seemed to be Aaron Hill and his broken nose.

Oliver was even lucky enough to find Captain Hart awake, "Joseph!"

The captain blinked, his normally black eyes seeming huge from a sharp dilation of his pupils, "L-lieutenant Wolfram…? What…?"

"Honestly sir, I was hoping you could tell us. We lost communication with you after Len suspected an impostor. He sent me down to find you after we failed to respond," Oliver told the man, helping him to sit up and scrutinizing a cut on his forehead.

"I…I can't…the woman…she crashed the ship on purpose after Len told me she was a fake…" Joseph rubbed his forehead, pushing tousled black hair out of his face.

"Do you mean the Vulcan woman, sir?" Oliver asked, inclining his head to the one casualty.

Joseph turned his head slowly, his neck stiff and he seemed to come awake when he saw the body, "Lieutenant…Lieutenant where is the rest of the landing party? Are they safe?"

"Aye sir…Leila's arm is broken and Aaron smashed his nose up, but everyone is still alive. The others are unconscious. You are the only one awake."

"Take me to the Vulcan."

The blonde German Lieutenant draped one of the captain's arms over his shoulders and helped him to stand, carefully walking him over towards where her corpse rested. It was an arduous process, long and awkward. It took more precious time than it should have, but eventually they stood over her tangled body. Oliver winced, but Joseph studied and suddenly those gaping black eyes grew impossibly wider. He dropped painfully to one knee and pushed her head over, studying her face and placing his fingers against the top of her nose.

"What is it, Captain?" Oliver asked, trying to see as his commanding officer did.

"This woman…she's not a Vulcan."

"I don't understand sir."

"Look here," Joseph said, brushing his fingers over the dead woman's face, "see this bone ridge here? It forms a 'v' at the top of her nose. It is very faint, but there you have it. This woman was not a Vulcan and we couldn't see it until now."

"If she is not Vulcan, then what is she?" Oliver asked, looking stunned.

"This woman is Romulan."

"Sir! If a Romulan woman lured you out here, then what of Sova and Lieutenant T'Jenn?" The helmsman immediately felt his insides churn.

"Give me your communicator now, Lieutenant!" Joseph held his hand out and Oliver was quick to grant his request.

The captain flipped the unit open and barked out a quick, "This is Captain Hart to the Seneca. Do you copy?"

::Joseph!:: Len's voice was filled with apprehension.

"Give me the status of Lieutenant T'jenn and her father," the Captain ordered.

::Communications with them are being completely blocked, sir. I haven't been able to get through to them in almost thirty minutes. I know that T'Jenn…she's in danger. I can't tell what, but something is definitely wrong. She's in pain.::

"She's wounded?"

::No sir…only mentally.::

More of that damned, unexplained mental mumbo-jumbo out of the two of them, but this time Captain Hart was glad for it, "I need an immediate transport for the landing party, Len. We have extensive injuries. I'll need a new set of security officers prepared to follow me. I intend to beam back down to T'Jenn's last known location and follow her."

There was a long pause followed by a low, ::…Aye sir. Engineering is locking onto your team now.::

Transport came almost immediately after the order was given, quick work from the Seneca's top employees. Captain Hart would recommend them for promotions later, but for now he just wanted to get through the nausea of beaming, get back onto his ship and get back out into the field to rescue his communications officer. Hell, he had to get out there and save the universe from the information that she and her father were carrying. He had to work quickly and he had to focus, forcing himself not to register when he almost passed out the minute he found himself back on the Seneca's transporter pad. The blackness almost overwhelmed him and sent him falling forward and only the surprising strength of someone's arms kept him upright.

When the Captain looked up, he had only a moment to register Len's gentle, apologetic chocolate brown eyes before he felt the rose-thorn sting of a hypospray in his neck. Then…total paralysis.

The Lieutenant Commander laid him gently on the floor while Oliver could only watch in speechless horror, "Forgive me, Captain, but I'm going to be breaking a lot more rules before we're done here. You're in no position to go down to the planet, so I'm going in your place as acting Captain. You can Court Martial me later."

Joseph Hart's mind screamed in rebellion as he lay totally immobile on the floor of his own ship, only able to watch as his most trusted friend moved over to the Transporter pad. He could only watch as Oliver, torn by indecision, eventually joined him, trumped by rank and orders. The order to energize was given and still Joseph Hart could only watch as two of the remaining members of his crew disappeared, leaving only himself and the unconscious wounded behind to be gathered by the medical personnel who were beginning to swarm the room. He was lost in the whirlwind, carried away and completely helpless to stop his friend from committing the greatest act of mutiny the USS Seneca had ever witnessed.

~***~

T'Jenn sat quietly beside her father in the back of the shuttle they had been brought to, turning the disk over and over in her hands. By now, Sova had managed to recover himself just enough from losing the touch of his bond-mate's mind to watch what his daughter did. She was considering as she studied the small, colorful square, thinking very hard about the few options that were left to them. On the one hand, the odds of successfully attempting an escape were slim in which case the Romulans would have full advantaged to take what they had, doubtless, come for. On the other hand, destroying the disk right now would completely eradicate the information forever, but it would certainly spell instant death for them and it went directly against the orders of the Elders.

Sova, still weak, managed a whisper, "What options do you see, T'Jenn?"

"The only logical options open to us now are to attempt an escape…or to destroy the disk," she gave him the short version of her thoughts.

"I believe you have already come to the conclusion that attempting an escape is illogical," the older Vulcan replied.

T'Jenn held the disk up, "The odds of attempting a successful escape are low. Should we die in the attempt; the disk will still fall into the hands of the Romulan Empire."

"The only logical alternative, then, is to destroy the disk, daughter."

"What of the Elders?"

Sova gave her a questioning look, one eyebrow cocked up, "I do not believe they shall have complaints once we are killed. If they do, I do not believe we will know what they are."

"Indeed. Sound logic, father," T'Jenn sighed and held the disk between two hands.

She looked up when she heard footsteps clanging up the metal ramp into the shuttle. It seemed that their guards were returning and she had very little time to put their final plan into action before they did something to stop her. The Vulcan woman braced her muscles, the disk still clutched tightly in her hands as she exerted all the force that she was able. The two Romulan guards stepped up into the shuttle, their eyes widening as they heard a resounding series of cracks throughout the metal shell of the transport. They turned to T'Jenn and she stared at them with unyielding eyes of deep brown rebellion. The pieces of the shattered disk fell to the floor with a clatter, ruined beyond repair.

"What was that?" The first asked, walking up and pressing his disruptor to her forehead threateningly.

T'Jenn knew no fear and her gaze was steady, "Your only reason for invading my homeworld."

Suddenly T'Jenn was moving quickly. In a split second, she had decided that to remain here and be executed was highly illogical. It was time they at least attempted an escape. Swift as a striking cobra, she kicked the first in the groin before grabbing her father's hand and making a run for the exit. She felt a brush against her mind as she fled from the vessel, smashing the second Romulan in the face in order to clear the way. She hadn't done them severe enough damage to lay them low, but she calculated that it would be enough for them to get a little way. She picked up the pace, running as fast as she and her ailing father could manage, already hearing the angry yells from behind them. Oh well…sometimes her calculations were known to be wrong. Disruptor fire kicked up the sand around their feet as they fled.

~***~

While T'Jenn had analyzed the troubles concerning the disk in question, Len found his feet touching down in the one place he had fervently wished he would never see again. At least, it was the one place he was never allowed to see again. He didn't pause to consider the ramifications of the rules he had broken to do this as he pulled his phaser and ran headlong into the desert, following the enigmatic pull T'Jenn exerted over his mind. True, their ship and transporters couldn't lock on to the exact location, but he sure as hell could, it seemed. The scientist was off like a shot almost before Oliver had time to materialize and follow behind. There was no time to pause.

"Come on! Follow me!" Len yelled back, picking up speed over the sand.

Oliver silently marveled at the scientist he had once believed to be so frail as he darted over sand and rock like a gazelle. The added gravity did him no harm, nor did the heat scald his lungs as it had done the others on their first arrival. He hadn't imagined that the small doctor had such strength in him even as the German man labored to keep up with his punishing pace. Something was driving the officer onwards, gave him a determination that the helmsman could hardly fathom. How did he even know that they were going in the right direction? He wanted to object, but there was something in Lenny's posture that told him stopping for any reason would earn him everlasting ire. He had no doubt that if he slowed too much, the scientist would have no qualms about just leaving him behind.

As they tore across the desert, T'Jenn made the decision to destroy the disk, to attempt to run while their captors pursued them doggedly and rapidly closed in. After all, what was one Vulcan girl and a crippled old man to a pair of fit Romulan soldiers?

Len knew nothing of what went on. He knew only that the inside of his mind screamed caution and that he had to keep moving. It made him a creature of single-mindedness, running so fast that he didn't even consider whether or not Oliver was still with him. He didn't call back. He didn't attempt to communicate. He had become nothing but legs and thoughts as he tore his way across the forbidden Vulcan landscape that separated him from the Seneca's communications officer. Every step brought him closer and he could feel it in the form of pure energy, like the tension that sang along a bowstring as it pulled tight. There was no time for him anymore…no distance. Everything focused onto that nebulous point in the distance where his mind told him T'Jenn and Sova would be.

Already he could see specks in the distance not too far from them and it forced him onward. There were four…all running…two closing in on the first two…one of the first two going down…Damn! Len put on a final burst of speed that left the human lieutenant far behind him at last, leveling his phaser and taking the first haphazard shot.

~***~

T'Jenn stumbled as her father took one of the stray disruptor bolts to the leg. It wasn't enough to kill him or to begin the horrible process of disintegration, but it was enough to take him down and end their progress. She turned quickly, crouching in front of him to make herself the larger target and internally wondering over the logic of such a thing. Logically, she should still be running so that at least one of them could survive but another part…the part that had lived too long amongst the humans…told her that the time had come to defend what family she had left. So she crouched. So she waited. So the Romulans closed in, baring their horrible weapons.

She stared them down like a tigress defending her young, unblinking and unyielding as the first took aim.

Suddenly, in a shower of sparks, the disruptor seemed to explode in his hand. He fell back with a cry, holding his hand tight and shrieking with pain as the twisted remains of the pistol fell smoking to the earth. There was confusion as the two tried to figure out where the shot had come from. Another bolt of fire lanced over the dunes and outcropping, hitting the second squarely in the chest and dropping him where he stood. The first looked about frantically, holding the ruined remains of his hand. It had been phaser fire that had taken down his companion. He couldn't fathom how the woman's companions had found her out here in the shifting desert. He didn't have much time to wonder.

Len made the final leap over a large rock that blocked him from the scene, having to abandon his phaser to grab on with both hands and lever himself over. The jump did nothing to halt his forward momentum and he continued barreling forward at the Romulan who could only stare in nameless perplexed fear. On the one hand, it was only one Federation man, a small one, coming at him without any sort of weapon. On the other hand, there was a look in his eyes that held more fire and fearful intent than staring down a charging le-matya. It froze the man where he stood, leaving him totally bewildered and unprepared for what came next.

The Starfleet doctor slammed into him with the force of a wild sandstorm, throwing him down to the desert floor. No human should have had the strength or the mass to manage such a feat and it confused the Romulan further so that he could only manage the weakest of struggles against the attack. Something mindless had come over the doctor, making him into a creature far more primitive than he had been five minutes ago.

The Romulan lifted an arm to strike the doctor and found it caught in an iron-tight grip and then snapped backwards so fast that the shoulder fractured agonizingly, leaving him almost blind from the pain. Len snarled as the man tried to surge up, smashing their foreheads together and breaking the nose of the other man in a manner very similar to the injuries suffered by Commander Hill. The doctor bared his teeth ferociously, wrapping his long, slender hands around the neck beneath him, twisting and squeezing viciously. There was no mercy. There were no morals. The friendly, smiling doctor who haunted the labs of the Seneca's Sickbay had been replaced with a monster.

Oliver crested the hill, sweating and panting just in time to see the final move.

T'Jenn and Sova stared in some sort of grim fascination as Len grabbed the Romulan's chin and twisted, listening as his neck snapped like a twig.

Then it was over. Len sat straddling the dead alien for awhile, just staring down at what he had done, his chest heaving as his mind suddenly took control of his body again. He tried to process the atrocities he had just committed, but things were hazy. He remembered T'Jenn. He remembered her being in very real danger and Sova possibly dead. He remembered a white haze over his mind that consumed his rationality like a firestorm and he remembered distinctly that he had given in to his darkest emotions to protect them, but nothing more. Exhausted, he collapsed onto his side, still trying to get control of himself again, barely noticing as Oliver finally got himself over to their other shipmate and his father, his face creased with detestation for what he had just seen.

The helmsman dropped into a crouch next to the woman, "T'Jenn…are you…?"

T'Jenn was still staring at what had been done, "…Commander Hill has often expressed curiosity over what happens when a Vulcan loses their temper. I hope his curiosity will be satisfied."

~***~

It was solemn and still aboard the Seneca in the hours following the problematic rescue on Vulcan. It was a mess. Two of the top officers on the ship were still in Sickbay from their injuries, one in the brig for mutiny and one hardly able to stand on his own where he was stationed at the Bridge. The Vulcan High Command was in fits over both the presence of Romulans on their planet and the crimes they had attempted to commit, the first being a call the war and the second nearly costing them one of their most brilliant research scientists. The matter of the lost information was easily dismissed once the logic of it was explained, but the rest was quite another matter entirely. At the moment, Joseph Hart only had the energy to deal with one crisis at a time and his heart wasn't yet ready to contend with Len, so he chose the Vulcans instead.

He would contend with his mutinous friend when he could stomach the weight of what he had done.

In the interim, the Captain found himself once again stumbling towards his Ready Room. This time it was to speak with the Vulcan Elders who had been beamed aboard the USS Seneca following the report of what had happened. In all honesty, Captain Hart had wanted time to make peace with what had gone on down there…time to piece it all together and make sense of it before he had to present it to the Elders themselves. He wasn't given that time. T'Jenn didn't believe it was within regulation to postpone the meeting any longer than was necessary. T'Jenn got her way. He chose to go to the Ready Room alone this time. He didn't want any of his crew to see this.

Captain Hart took a deep, heaving breath as he leaned on the wall just outside of the Ready Room, swallowing thickly and trying to mentally prepare himself for this. His shoulders shuddered slightly as he let the breath out and pressed the button outside the door, listening to it hiss open. Gathering his dignity about him like a tattered cloak, the Captain stood tall and forced the weakness from his limbs, striding in and looking all of the assembled Elders of the Vulcan High Command in the eye. He was greeted with the blank, severe stare of all their eyes staring right back.

"We are gratified that you have chosen to confer with us with such alacrity, Captain Hart," the first to speak was the exacting Sarek.

Hart nodded a little dimly, "I had wanted for a little more time."

"Is there a complication, Captain?" Sarek inquired.

"A crewman of mine is in the brig. I have to confess that he is my friend and all of this is hard for me to take in. I had wanted time to digest this…" Hart tried to intimate.

Sarek's brows drew down sharply, "The crewman you refer to is the one we call Selen. I understand he has committed mutiny against you as well as breaking our edicts and savagely murdering two men on our planet."

"Those men were Romulans who killed one of your citizens and conspired to kill two more!" Captain Hart said, suddenly feeling affronted.

His burst of emotion did not seem to touch Sarek, "Inconsequential, especially considering that Selen was, in essence, banished from ever returning to Vulcan."

"I understand that he broke your edicts, but he did it to rescue your scientist and one of my crewmen. It was an act of heroism," Hart tried to defend.

"It was unnecessary. The disk had already been destroyed. His return to Vulcan and the violence he enacted while there were committed in the name of recklessness and emotion." Sarek refused to give an inch.

"What do you propose to do with him, then?" Hart asked warily, trying to gauge any sort of human reaction from the man. He was sorely disappointed.

Sarek folded his wrinkled hands on the tabletop, "Selen is a special case which requires special attention. We understand that the emotions he feels with wild abandon have, recently, managed to infect the mind of one of our other citizens. Therefore, the only recourse we are given is Cerebral Silence."

"What, may I ask, is that?" Joseph inquired.

"Selen will be handed over to our people for the period of time it requires to take him to a priestess at Mount Seleya and have his mind completely isolated, forever unable to touch another's."

Captain Hart recoiled slightly, "Like an excommunication for his brain."

"If that is how you wish to identify it, then yes," Sarek confirmed, still looking remarkably distant.

"If I refuse to comply?"

"Then we will be forced to seek a compulsory order from the Federation. They are very well aware of his situation," Sarek was practically glacial.

Joseph turned his back to the Vulcan council, reaching up to touch his sinuses, "…May I have time to consider this? I must speak with Selen."

"If that is your wish, we will reconvene here in three days time for either your compliance or to compel you to comply," the Vulcan elder nodded.

"What of the Romulans?"

"When the time comes, we will speak of them, also. For the time being, we must confer amongst ourselves to determine the most prudent course of action. This we can do on the planet and return to you with our conclusion at the end of the three days."

"This is…satisfactory," Joseph said softly, watching as the High Command rose and filed past him to the door of the Ready Room.

Once they had gone, Joseph was the last to leave, trudging out and making his way down to the Brig. He had a hard meeting that he needed to get out of the way, made even harder by the news he knew he would have to discuss. Secrets, lies, scandal, violence and mutiny…Vulcan truly was quickly becoming Joseph Hart's least favorite planet. He had never felt so alone as he did now. His First Officer was in the Sickbay with one of his helmsmen, his dearest friend had turned on him and now sat alone in the brig with only his own thoughts for company and Joseph felt that he had no one to turn to. It was the first time in his 36 years of life that he had felt truly backed up against a wall.

For now, the brig waited.


	4. The Mutineer's Loophole

The Seneca Missions  
Chapter Four: The Mutineer's Loophole  
Rating: R

The Story So Far: After the disastrous confrontation on Vulcan, Captain Hart is faced with giving over his best friend for punishment. Conflicted over secrets kept and with most of his officers out of commission, Captain Hart has been forced to bring all of his powers of diplomacy home.

In This Chapter: Joseph Hart considers the options left to him and attempts to make the most of his time left with his oldest friend.

~***~

To look upon Len as he sat in the Brig was to look upon a broken, beaten man. He was defeated, sitting on the lone cot in the dim room, looking down at his hands. He was still dirty, covered in the dust and sand of Vulcan, his face smeared with the blood that had sprayed from the man's nose when it shattered against Len's forehead. He looked tired, totally sapped now that the hellish adrenaline had fled from his system. He looked haunted, as though he couldn't believe what he had done in his bestial rage, disgusted with himself. Len rubbed his hands over and over against each other as if he were trying to clean the invisible stain of death from them. He looked almost gaunt now, half hidden by shadow.

It almost pained Captain Hart to see him as he stepped through the doors into the Brig. He felt like he was looking at some pale shadow of his old friend. For the first time since he'd met him, Len didn't have his hat on. The trademark knit cap had been left in the sands of Vulcan, probably lost to the dunes now. Joseph wished he still had it just so he wouldn't have to see the truth that Len had long hidden beneath it. It was too confusing…staggering to know that the two had been the closest of companions for years without anyone ever suspecting. It still didn't quite compute. Joseph tried to reconcile the points of Len's ears against the very human downward slope of his eyebrows. It didn't make sense.

The Captain approached the cell slowly, making sure to clear his throat and announce himself even though he could hear his own boots echoing in the hall.

Len didn't look up from his hands and Joseph felt a little sting inside, walking close to the force-field that kept them apart, "…Lenny."

Slowly, the medical officer looked up at him, his dark, chocolate eyes almost hidden beneath the frayed, layered shag of his hair. It was usually hidden beneath the cap, so no one ever noted or not if it was regulation. It was very easy to see now that it wasn't. Joseph didn't care. He had bigger things to worry about than whether or not his subordinate's hair was the appropriate length.

Len stared at him for a long minute before choking a bit, "You still call me that, even now."

"It's who you still are," Joseph said, hearing how emotional his friend was.

"You can still say that after seeing me like this? After Oliver told you what I did to those men? You're either blind or you've lost your edge," Len mocked bitterly, feeling sorry for himself.

Joseph allowed him the anger and replied, "I can't pretend to understand or that I'm not hurt in some way…but you're still Lenny. I'm nervous that I never noticed something so significant about you…and it shocks me to know what you're capable of…but Len's not gone. There's just a lot more to him now, I guess."

"You should hate me. I hid my RACE from you…from everyone," Len said miserably.

"You know, I still don't understand how you managed to do that for so long. Someone in Starfleet has to know," Joseph replied.

"Starfleet Command knows. They've always known from the first day I enlisted. They pulled special strings to keep me concealed at the behest of Vulcan High Command," the man in the holding cell replied.

Joseph winced. It seemed he was the only man in the dark here.

Len looked at him softly, noticing the wince, "I'm sorry it hurts, Joe."

"I just don't understand why, Lenny. Why hide from us? Did you really think we'd be so quick to judge you based on your heritage?"

"You think it's personal."

"Isn't it?"

"Of course not, Joe. It's not that I actively tried to keep it from you it's just that…it never mattered. I've never thought of myself as Vulcan and I preferred no one else think of me that way either. The Vulcan people disowned me and I did the same for them. We didn't want each other," Len said, standing with more grace than he should have, walking over to stand in front of Joseph with only the field to separate them.

Joseph nodded, "I see now how you and T'Jenn seemed so attuned to each other. Tell me, Lenny…are you her…husband?"

Len stared blankly at the Captain for a minute before he started to laugh and by God if that wasn't the strangest thing Joseph Hart had ever seen. Sure, he'd seen Len laugh a lot. He'd been the cause of a lot of the spontaneous laughter over the years, but now that he could see the ears…could see Len for what he really was…it was peculiar. The black-eyed man had to admit that in all his life he'd never seen a Vulcan so much as smile, let alone laugh. To watch one in the throes of mirth, even if it was his old friend, was just strange. Stranger still was why the other man was laughing.

He had to wait for an answer until Len got himself under control enough to say, "No! No no no! I'd never bond myself to that awful woman!"

"Then how?" Joseph asked.

"Joe, T'Jenn is my little sister. She was born five years after me. I'm 26 and she's 21," Len explained, still trying to fight off the giggles despite being trapped in the brig.

Joseph looked mystified, "Your sister? So that means that Sova…"

"Is my father," Len said with a low rumble before daring to ask, "Joe? Has he recovered from losing my mother?"

"He is putting up a strong front, Lenny, but I won't lie. The man is shaken since T'Penna's murder, " the Captain of the Seneca said, looking grim and more than a little sad.

He noticed the sadness in his Xenovirologist's face as well and it pained him so he asked, "…Did you love her, Lenny?"

"Any kid not raised as a Vulcan loves their parent. Hell, even Vulcans feel a connection with the ones who gave them life…they've just worked so long and so hard to suppress everything that they don't know what it is they're going through anymore. They convince themselves that it's illogical and boom, it's gone," Len narrated, "so yes…I loved her…and I wish she was back."

Joseph felt sadness welling up in his chest, watching his friend lower his head under the weight of his personal mourning. At once, he was glad that he was the one who was here instead of another Vulcan. He couldn't imagine trying to make Lenny suppress or conceal this great sorrow that forced him down…couldn't imagine robbing him of the right to grieve. Joe felt the need to reach through the force field and hug the person who had always been closest to him on the ship…even closer than Aaron Hill. After all, the Commander would always have his women to fall back on. At the end of the day, all Joseph had was Lenny. He knew that now was the time to return the favor, no matter how confused and hurt he was personally.

The Captain put a hand against the wall, forcing himself not to open the cell, "Lenny…I think she would have been proud…"

"Spare me the petty niceties, Captain. She wouldn't have been proud of the monstrous thing I did down there. You didn't see what I did to them. Besides…mother was a good Vulcan woman…she was never comfortable with her emotional son," Lenny said, sinking down to sit next to the wall.

For the moment, Joseph was speechless, just listening to Len go on, "I should have just swallowed my pride and gone through with it."

"Gone through with what?" Captain Hart inquired with no small amount of puzzlement.

"The Vulcan High Command did offer my one road to redemption and re-acceptance among my people after I was banished," Len prefaced, "They said that if, upon returning to Vulcan, I immediately submitted myself to the Kolinahr at Gol…I would be permitted back into society."

"Forgive me Lenny, but…what is the Kolinahr?" Joseph inquired.

Len sighed, "It is a Vulcan ritual to purge all emotion…to become a creature of pure logic and nothing more. They felt that it was the only safe way I could return to my people, but my humanity…my emotions…rebelled. I refused and instead requested aid to join Starfleet."

Joseph was quietly awed and intimidated, "Lenny…was what you did on Vulcan so terrible?"

The young scientist regarded him with gentle eyes then, tired and full of compassion, "Joe…it seems to me that you've got a lot of questions about me and I'm tired of hiding myself from you. Why don't I just start from the beginning and work my way back to the present?"

"I would be honored if you'd feel so inclined," Joseph said, sitting down across from where Len had essentially collapsed.

"Well then, you're lucky I do. Where would you like for me to start?"

"I believe you said you would start at the beginning. How about telling me where you were born?"

Len allowed himself a small smile, "Sure. That doesn't sound so bad. Well…for starters I was born the first year my parents were stationed on the Alpha Zed research colony. Naturally, when your parents are the foremost researchers in their fields, they tend not to have as much time for you except for the basic necessities to keep you alive. I grew up surrounded by other people of other races not my own and, when my parents could not teach me their ways, I learned from others. I learned their emotions and their cultures. I grew up human and any other race living alongside us…not Vulcan. By the time my parents realized this, it was far too late to check the tide of my emotions."

"The process was helped along by my sister, born prematurely five years after myself," Len continued.

"Five years is premature?"

"For a Vulcan it is…but we don't talk about that."

"Oh."

"Anyway, when T'Jenn was born and they realized that I was far gone, Sova and T'Penna began to dedicate much more attention to her, determined that she would be logical…a credit to our species. They felt as though I had been deprived and, having so learned from their 'previous error' they refused to do so again. The only flaw in their logic was that I was still left to my own devices…to grow amongst others and not with my own kind. You must understand that Vulcans are not born as unfeeling things…they are shaped into those creatures by mothers and fathers dedicated to the ways of Surak."

"Surak?" Joseph asked quietly.

Len waved it off, "Another history lesson for another day."

"I'll hold you to that. Please continue."

"Gee thanks," Len got out a dry chuckle before he picked the story up again, "This went on until I was 15 and my sister was 10. By then, the colony was ready to function on its own and the researchers were free to return to wherever it was they came from. In my parents' case, they went back to Vulcan, taking T'Jenn and I along for the ride. Needless to say, T'Jenn loved it. It was like a breath of fresh air for her. All of the things mother and father had been putting in her head actually made sense here and she could put her logic to good use. For me, it was hell. I laughed and people stared at me. They STARED at me, Joseph."

Len pushed his hair from his face, trying to remember just where things had gone so sour, "My parents put me in civilized schooling in the hopes that they might affect a re-education in me. The other children were worlds beyond me and let me tell you; never convince yourselves that Vulcans can't be bullies just because they're not ruled by emotion. They fought with logic, I fought with emotions. I lost. A lot. I was miserable."

"I spent five years toiling away, striving to even reach my sister's level. She was a prodigy, years ahead of me and still five years my junior. I guess things were the worst when I turned 20. It was the same old story…mockery from the peanut gallery…this time because they found out that I'd never gone through my Kahs-wan ritual. It made me weak to them…a child. I had been growing more and more sullen for all the years I'd been trapped on Vulcan and I just…snapped. Their logical teasing met with a purely emotional and physical response. I won, for once. It was the last time, too. I don't recall much, but I think I almost killed the poor bastard," Len recounted, sighing heavily again.

"Vulcan High Command found out and you were deemed a threat," Captain Hart finished, having pieced the puzzle together for himself.

"That's the long and short of it. From there, I ended up at Starfleet Medical Academy in my trusty human disguise and well, you know the rest, I think," the doctor tried to finish.

Joseph nodded, "Yes, I believe I do. I am curious though…"

"Yes?"

"The eyebrows, Len…how do you get them to look so human if you're pure-blooded Vulcan?" the Captain asked in mild amusement, raising his own up.

"Oh, that. It's just a basic cosmetic procedure I do on myself every couple of months. I remove the hair as it grows in naturally and then coax it to grow downwards like a human's with a light follicle stimulant," Len said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Joseph couldn't suppress a fond smile, "Lenny?"

"Yes, captain?"

"You sound like a girl," he teased.

"No offense, Joe, but you sound like an ass," Len returned easily and Joseph found that it was a relief.

Despite the sudden change in his perceived race and the fact that he was facing retribution at the hands of the Vulcan elders, Len was really still himself. Nothing had changed for them except for some new truths that they both shared. At least everything made sense for the dark haired captain now so perhaps this startling revelation had been something their friendship needed. It wasn't as though Captain Hart was a stupid man. He would have been bothered more and more by the discrepancies eventually, so perhaps it was better that he'd found out while Len was at least trying to be heroic and rescue one of his team-mates, mutiny or not.

Joseph said softly, "For what it's worth, I'm glad you didn't undergo the Kolinahr."

"I am too, Joe," Len smiled, looking over his shoulder to see through the force-field, his back still against the wall.

The Captain would have loved to just get lost in their comfortable companionship for a little while and forget the problems he faced, but that wouldn't be fair to Len. He had to tell him of what the Elders had decided. It was what Joseph had come down here to talk about, after all. He sighed heavily, his good mood fading with that revelation and Len could feel it.

"…There's more, isn't there, Joe?"

"I'm afraid so, Lenny. The High Command decided on what to do with you earlier today. I don't really know how severe it is or isn't, but I do have their decision and they're prepared to force me," Joseph said a little bit lower than he needed to, feeling that it was a private matter.

For a moment, Len couldn't bring himself to ask.

Finally, he forced out the question, "What's the damage, Captain?"

"They're ordering you to report to Mount Seleya so a Priestess can isolate your mind. They said something about your emotions polluting other minds. They said this is something that will make sure you can't touch another mind again. I don't really know…I don't understand how it works."

Len's whole body had gone rigid and his breathing seemed to stop. He looked like a rabbit caught in the hunter's sights and the sudden lack of response actually scared Captain Hart. People only reacted like that in the face of sheer, all-consuming terror. Not understanding the nature of the Vulcan culture, Joseph hadn't had the slightest clue how severe of a punishment the severing of a mind from the masses could be, but from Len's reaction alone he could guess that it was horrible. Seeing Len in that much pain was more than he could stand and, at last, Joseph's hand found the controls and the force-field between them dissipated. In an instant, he was on his feet and inside the cell in front of his friend, watching the cold dread settle into the doctor's deep brown eyes.

Joseph crouched, reaching forward to take a firm hold on Len's shoulders, "Lenny…Len…is it that bad?"

"Worse than you could ever imagine, Joe…" Len whispered.

"I don't understand," Joe said, leaning in closer.

Suddenly, Len surged up, placing a delicate hand on his face and, for the first time, Joseph could feel the muscles dormant in there. For a split second, he imagined that his friend meant to do him harm, but no pain came. Instead, the fingers simply arranged themselves neatly across very precise points of his face, pressing very gently. The Captain looked at his scientist in confusion, trying to figure out exactly what was going on and he was moved to see a great sadness radiating from Len's eyes. Immediately, he relaxed, placing his trust once again in the one he called 'friend'. He sank down to his knees to make it easier for the other.

"Let me help you understand, Joe…please…"

Too mystified to speak, Joseph simply nodded once. Len hummed a little bit to himself, rearranging his fingers slightly before he closed his eyes and leaned his head forward. The minute his eyes closed, Captain Hart was no longer himself, knocked clean off of his proverbial feet by a tidal wave of being.

There was everything.

There was nothing.

All that Captain Hart had ever been was utterly forgotten as he found himself bombarded, he and Len merging into a complete synthesis of thought and feeling. His mind forgot things like feel, taste and smell, only seeming to comprehend that he was no longer just one creature. He had, in some way, become Len and Len had become him, if only minimally. He felt fear, desperation, regret, sorrow, anger and gratefulness as deep as the sea washing over him like a warm, heady tide. There were times he felt that he would drown in the sensation, unable to keep his head above the waters of thought. It was the most intimate thing he had ever experienced in his life, touching Len, but yet not touching him…almost literally buried under his skin and in his brain. Despite the danger he felt of losing himself, there was a comfort…whatever it was that he was feeling…it was like an embrace for his psyche.

After a period that felt like hours and seconds all at once, the hand was pulled away and Joseph was alone in his head again. It felt almost…cold. He stared at Len and the other stared back at him.

"God, Len…what was that?"

The doctor was trembling as he replied, "A mind-meld, Joe. It is when a Vulcan telepathically links two minds. Mine was a little confused since I am not well trained…but…"

"Is that really how it feels to have someone else in your brain? To BE in someone else's brain?" Joseph asked in a whisper.

"Yes," Len said softly.

"It feels so empty now," Joseph expressed.

Lenny shook his head, "What you feel now is only a taste of what a full Cerebral Silence feels like. It is not so severe for you since you are not used to having others present in your mind…and because part of me is still there."

"Still there?"

"Yes, Joe. When a Vulcan melds with someone, the two minds exchange things that cannot be undone except by another melder of greater skill. There is a little bit of you left in my mind as well. However, Cerebral Silence makes all of that impossible. I will lose the pieces of others that are in my head and I will never be able to meld again," Lenny said, the shake growing plainer in his limbs.

Joseph dug deep into his brain and found that he could still detect lingering tendrils of Len's emotions lodged deeply within himself. He felt the desperation very strongly and now that he had a feeling to compare it with, the Captain realized what a grave punishment it really was. He felt Lenny's fear as his own, though whether or not it was the meld's influence still working on him, he could not know. He was also acutely aware of the compassion intertwined with the fear, the gratitude for the closeness that the Captain had allowed him to feel. It was humbling and overwhelming all at once to know so much about how deeply Len truly cared about their friendship and just how far his trust ran.

Still trying to make sense of the tangled emotions in his head and deeply moved by how frail Len seemed now, Captain Hart found his control completely gone.

The human man lunged forward, his lips crashing passionately up against the doctor's, his hands digging firmly into the strangely unyielding, sinewy muscle of Len's arms. Len barely had time to let out a cry before the force of it pushed him to the floor. He suddenly felt extremely lucky for his Vulcan physiology. Being three times stronger than any given human, even a toned, muscular man like the Captain, meant that your body could take a lot of abuse. The man's weight on top of him didn't mean all that much, but the mouth attached to his meant a hell of a lot. He knew he should have pushed him off and gotten some distance between them, but so soon after the meld? He was helpless to the emotions that he had never learned to master and so they in turn mastered him.

Len allowed the Captain to trap the back of his head, allowed him to deepen the kiss until he could actually feel the man's tongue against his. It felt wrong to be doing this with his oldest friend, but he knew emotions ran strong after a mind-meld and he was prepared to accommodate any peculiar behavior that arose because of it. Still…some part of him enjoyed it in a way that was certainly more than friendly. A part of him truly reveled in having the Captain pressed on top of his smaller, leaner frame and enjoyed the unique scent that was purely human and purely Captain Hart. He could feel his pupils dilating as his body registered the excitement, but he forced himself to fight it, pushing Joseph off with all of his Vulcan strength.

It snapped Hart out of whatever trance he had been in and he came fully off of his subordinate, staring at him as though he'd broken him.

They stared at each other for long moments before at last, Joseph spoke in shaky, measured tones, "Len…"

"It's alright, Joe…it's just…emotional transference from the meld…not your fault," the doctor said, sitting up and righting his clothes.

Joseph pressed a hand to his forehead, "I…you are confined to your quarters. Get some rest and get clean. The Vulcans return in three days."

Len stood slowly to walk out and he started a bit when Joseph grabbed his shoulder firmly. The doctor could sense uncertainty and doubt…regret? Captain Hart felt guilty about the kiss…like he had forced his dearest friend. It wasn't rape, but apparently it registered on the same scale for the upstanding Joseph Hart. He feared for their friendship after what he had done and he needed to know if everything was alright. The least Len could do was to cover the Captain's hand with his own.

"Joseph…you've shared more with me than I have shared with my own parents. Trust me, we are still friends," the Xenovirologist assured in kind tones.

"Your mother and father never melded with you?" Joe asked, keeping his hand there.

Lenny shook his head, "No. Only T'Jenn ever did and I suspect she did it only out of necessity. Believe me; you have just become closer to me than my blood relatives. I couldn't possibly bear you any ill will."

That said, the doctor gently removed his Captain's hand and walked away, headed back to his quarters for lockdown until the time for his punishment came. The only person who would have access to him until then was Joseph and that was only thanks to the override code he was permitted to use as Captain. Watching the doctor walk away, the dark haired Captain was suddenly reminded with stark sorrow the pain that Len was going to be forced to endure in three days. To have such an ability taken from him was unbearable, especially for someone who had known it all his life rather than a few brief but wonderful moments in time. Joseph already knew that he'd have to be there for Lenny in the days that followed the sentence more than he ever had before.

~***~

"I still don't understand why they have to punish him, Zoe," Joseph said, sitting on one of the medical beds.

Zoe put down her medical text book, looking deeply thoughtful, "I think you're looking at this from the wrong perspective, Joseph. Remember, Vulcans don't seek vindication…they're logical creatures. I wouldn't call this punishment so much as…a protective measure?"

The Captain and his Chief Medical Officer sat together in her quarters, calmly seeking company from one another. It was the only other place that Joseph really had to go at this point. While he felt more himself talking to Len, the other had requested solitude in his own quarters without disturbance and frankly Joe still felt a little badly after the forced kiss. He didn't really think he could discuss things with his drinking buddy, Aaron…but that was mostly because the other man was still in a foul mood and sporting a healing nose. With his other close options out that only left him with the professional serenity that Zoe Adele offered. True, she wasn't a bad alternative…there were just certain things that Joe knew he couldn't feel comfortable mentioning around her. He'd have to be a little bit careful.

The CMO tried again, putting her book away this time, "Look at it from their point of view. He did a lot of collateral damage here last time. It bewildered them, so they asked him to leave. Suddenly, he returns without even a request. To them, it seems like they can't stop him from coming, so they might as well nip the problem in the bud, so to speak."

Joseph sighed heavily, looking up at the ceiling, "There has to be some way that I can convince them not to go through with this."

"Joseph…I understand that Len is your best friend, but you have to keep the Prime Directive in mind. What is happening with Len and his people is an internal affair," Zoe reminded calmly, trying to provide temperance for her friend's tumultuous feelings.

"I know that we have to uphold General Order 1, but the Vulcan civilization is Warp-Capable," the Captain said.

"That just means Starfleet is allowed to aid in technological revelations and that there's no danger of us intruding on their growth as a nation," she added, "we still aren't allowed to meddle in their private affairs."

"Zoe, Len relinquished his claims on any Vulcan heritage and he's a Starfleet officer," Joseph tried to reason.

"However, Joseph, the restriction on him was put in place first. Lieutenant Commander or not, he's still theirs to deal with," Zoe quietly refuted.

"Damnit!" Joe cursed and struck a table with the flat of his hand.

Zoe's face was sympathetic as she watched her captain struggle with the idea of being forced to submit a member of his crew to this odd, cultural punishment. She felt his pain. After all, she shared a marked closeness with Len as well. He'd been her co-worker in the labs for all the years she'd been aboard the ship and it was distressing to know what was in store for him. She couldn't pretend not to know what Joseph Hart was suffering through, but she was one of the highest ranking officers on the ship and so she had to present a degree of sanity to the situation. It was her duty.

"Joseph…" Zoe began very quietly so as not to startle him, "if you really believe that the sentence is unfair, you have to be able to prove it."

The Captain looked up at her with a little bit of surprise, so she continued, "Whoever ends up presiding over this in the end will not be swayed by your compassion for a friend. You need to start thinking like a Captain and find reasons why they can't go through with it. You need to have solid evidence."

Black eyes stared at her in wonder and Joseph managed to say, "Do you think that there's a chance, Zoe?"

The woman pursed her lips, "I can't say for sure, Joseph. What I can say is that, if a loophole does exist, you're not going to find it by moping. With all due respect, Captain, you need to get your spine back in place and start working with your head firmly on your shoulders. I believe that, if anyone can find a way out of this, it's you…but only if you're operating at full capacity."

"Well, as my acting physician, what do you recommend for a spinal relocation?" Joseph asked, feeling a little stronger for Zoe's reprimanding.

"Go see Lenny," she said with firm conviction.

The words made Joseph pause and after a moment he shook his head, "Zoe, I can't do that. Not yet."

"When then, Captain? You've been avoiding Len for the past two days and the Vulcans come back tomorrow morning. You have GOT to talk to him. You need all the information you can get and Len is one of the only two Vulcans on the ship. More than that, I think he's the ONLY one who can help, or do you think T'Jenn would be willing to give you anything as readily?," the CMO said without swaying.

"Zoe…"

"Besides," she was softer this time, "If there isn't anything you can do…you should spend as much time with him as he is now in case whatever they do changes him."

For a moment, the Captain was very still as he let Zoe's advice sink in. She was completely correct again, as usual, and he found that there was no denying that fact. At this point, he wasn't sure there was much he could do to convince the High Command, but the CMO was right about the procedure possibly changing Len. If it did, Captain Hart knew that it wouldn't be a pleasant or a good change, not after what he had seen of his friend two days ago in the Brig. She was right. He had to take advantage of his time now. Joseph stood to go.

"Captain?" Zoe asked with a knowing sort of tone.

"I believe," Captain Hart said firmly, "that my Chief Medical Officer has just given me an order. I would be a poor captain if I did not obey."

The French doctor smiled at him with a friendly tenderness as the captain made his way to the door. She still feared for her two friends, but she was a little bit less worried for Joseph now and with any luck, Joseph could see Len through the troubled time as well. Content in the knowledge of what she had accomplished, Zoe allowed herself to relax back in her chair, pulling her book once more into her lap. It was at least another hour until her shift, so she had time to get through the history of Vivisection before she had to report to Sickbay. Her door hissed closed and she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

Outside, Captain Hart surveyed the cabins to either side of Sickbay, trying to summon up the last of his courage. Whatever cowardice had somehow managed to work its way into his system was gone now, banished before the strength of an officer's self control. A talk with Zoe had been exactly what Hart had needed to remind himself that he was a Captain. He couldn't pander to human weakness for that very reason and he had allowed himself to forget it. For god's sake! He had allowed himself to forget that he was Captain! He was a man who had learned in his earliest years that no battle was ever won with tears, but instead it was with gritted teeth and determination that he had faced down even the Klingon menace.

He walked two or three doors down with his new conviction in mind, coming to stand in front of Len's door and punching in the override code that would grant him entrance. He listened with satisfaction as the door beeped and then slid open. He walked inside.

On the other side, he was greeted with faint music. From the tone of it, it sounded like Len was indulging his private weakness for human music from the 1960's again. Captain Hart couldn't tell the exact date of the song, but if he had to hazard a guess, it would be for The Beatles. He sighed and stepped all the way in, letting the door close. He looked around, grateful for the fact that Len hadn't let his OTHER fascination infest this room as it had the labs of Sickbay. There were no grotesque models or photographs here, only the music and the smallest pieces of memorabilia. Joseph stepped closer to the bed, somewhat intrigued by a strange wooden animal he saw resting on the shelf above it.

"It was a gift. It was my first toy, you know," Len's voice came from somewhere behind him.

Captain Hart didn't turn, just studying the oddity, "I see. Not from your parents, I trust?"

"No, it was from a Xenozoologist I made friends with on the research colony when I was a child. He whittled in his spare time."

After a moment, Joseph finally turned around to see Lieutenant Commander Len leaning in the door to his bathroom wearing only a black t-shirt and black boxer briefs. His hair was damp and freshly washed, not to mention newly trimmed and combed over nicely to one side. It still looked a little like a messy chop-job, but at least it was regulation length. The Captain smiled a bit, noticing the green tint to Len's skin now that it was freshly scrubbed.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your shower," Hart said, finding a chair.

The lean man shrugged, walking over to sit opposite his friend, "You didn't. I had just gotten dressed when you came in."

"How are you holding up?" Joseph asked, leaning forward.

"I guess I'm alright. I'm still trying to get used to things. I've done a lot of thinking," the Vulcan doctor said, looking put out and depressed.

"Tell me?" the Captain asked.

For a moment, the younger man didn't look entirely as though he wanted to speak. He kept his brown eyes cast down and his hands steepled in front of his mouth so Joseph couldn't see the tight line it had drawn into. He seemed to be considering.

At last, he just came out with it, "I want to resign from my commission aboard the USS Seneca."

Captain Hart carefully schooled himself against the shock of it, managing to look neutral, "Len, why do you want to leave us? You're the best in your field and you're my friend."

"That's exactly why I have to go, Joe. This thing tomorrow is going to change me in a terrible way and I don't want you to be around for my inevitable decline. I think it would hurt you too much," Len replied with a solemn tone.

"Lenny, you don't get rid of us that easily," Hart said, trying to sound optimistic.

"I'd rather not discuss it any more right now, if it's alright with you, Joe," Len sounded miserable, so the Captain let it go.

"Well…what do you want to talk about then?" The Captain was trying his best to accommodate the condemned man.

Len shook his head, "I honestly don't know. I'm a little surprised that you're here. I did ask for privacy."

"You're also a mutineer, Lenny. I think I should get to come and go as I please," Joseph teased, "besides…I've been avoiding you. I should have been trampling on your personal rights a little bit sooner."

"Probably," Len couldn't help but grin, "why DID it take you so long to start annoying me?"

"The kiss."

Len's grin faded a bit, "Captain, I already told you not to worry so much about it. Most humans suffer from a bit of emotional overload after their first mind-meld and I already informed you that I'm an inexperienced melder."

The Captain looked serious, "You didn't resist, Len."

Caught, the scientist realized that it was futile to try and squirm out of the situation, so he settled on honesty instead, "I did say that it was emotional transference, didn't I, Joe?"

"Lenny, do you really have feelings for me of that nature?"

"Joe, to be honest, I really can't say. You've been my best friend and my anchor for as long as I've been on this ship. We spend most nights together somewhere on this ship finding something to do. Neither of us has ever dated a woman as far as I know and maybe I just did something with that connection. A meld is a pretty personal, private thing to Vulcans," Len tried to explain.

"But you weren't raised Vulcan," Joseph countered.

"…No. I wasn't."

"I propose an experiment, then," The Captain said, straightening up and getting out of his chair, walking over to stand directly over Len.

"Captain, this is inappropriate…" Len tried to argue, but found himself unable to do much more than whisper.

Captain Joseph Hart couldn't explain his sudden need for this. If he tried to, the best explanation he could have come up with was that he was destined to lose his friend tomorrow morning. It didn't seem right to let the last few hours slip away as they always had, especially not with such a prominent revelation fresh on their minds. He'd already been inside of the officer's head, known him more intimately than any member of his family save his own sister had, and he felt the dire urge to surpass that precedent. It wasn't logical, it didn't make sense and it was probably poorly advised as well, but he couldn't help it. Human compulsion was rarely logical anyway.

"Len…how long have we been close?" Joseph asked, leaning in a little bit more.

Len shook his head, trying to focus, "Three…three years…"

"You're not fighting me again," the Captain said, slightly awed.

"This…god damnit Joseph! What if you regret this?" Len tried to shake himself out of the feelings.

Suddenly he felt lips pressed up against his again, but this time, they were less frantic. There was a control to this kiss. It was a carefully calculated thing, not a desperate lip-lock in a moment of addled passion like before. Black eyes met brown in a subtle battle of wills before Lenny surrendered and closed his own. He had never been a match for Joseph's intensity when the man truly applied himself to something. Only when the captain needed to breathe did he withdraw.

Breathing faster, Joseph said, "What does it matter? You say this thing tomorrow will change you so much that you can't even be around us anymore. If I'm going to lose you forever, at least give me something to remember."

Len relented under the weight of his captain's plea, leaning up for the next kiss. It was more quiet than the last two, more considerate and gentle than either of Joseph's had been. Len was attempting to test the waters here, to see just how far this thing was going to go before he totally committed himself to it. He gasped in shock as the Captain's arms suddenly wrapped around him, pulling him up from his seat and into a tight embrace. Apparently Joseph intended to take this exploration quite far indeed. The doctor shivered when he felt hands coming dangerously close to the sensitive points of his ears.

The Captain of the Seneca breathed in quiet wonderment as Len turned his head slightly to the side, completely exposing the side of his neck and one ear for his perusal. For a moment, all Joseph could do was admire the perfect lines of the throat, the pull and shift of muscles underneath flesh. He ran a thumb over the pulse there, marveling at the soft green pallour of the flesh that he had never noticed before. Curious, he pinched the top of one ear-point, blinking in surprise as Len almost crumpled from pure sensation, only Joseph's muscles keeping him upright. Carefully Captain Hart laid small kisses against the line of a lean tendon, feeling the flutter of a heartbeat pulsing against his lips. When they were like this he had to admit to himself that he felt more secure than he could have possibly imagined, realizing that this bound his friend closer to him than ever before.

He was riding the knife's edge of disaster and he had to admit that he rather liked the feeling.

Joseph edged them back away from the two chairs and the desk, moving them closer to the single twin-sized bed that sat in a corner of any officer's quarters. It was the same bed where he'd inspected the toy animal. The larger man was backing his Vulcan friend towards the mattress so that when they bumped against it, it was easy to push him down onto his back. Of course, it was less pushing and more careful guidance, since Len wasn't exactly fighting. If Len had chosen to fight, Joe was sure he wouldn't have even gotten him this far. The Vulcan boy was smaller, definitely, but he was still a herculean thing. There wasn't any fat on him and Joseph was sure Len could break him if he ever felt like it. As it was, Len seemed more content to lay on his back, a brilliant jade blush marking his high cheekbones and his breath growing less and less measured by the minute.

Len swallowed softly, trying to force his heart back into the area under his chest where it belonged as Joseph crouched over him, straddling his thighs and pushing at his black t-shirt. He could feel the power of the man's thighs through the thin boxer briefs he wore. Compared to his strength, Joseph didn't weigh too much, but there was still a very warm, very real mass there. Willingly, Len eased his upper half up off the bed, lowering his head so Joseph could wrestle the shirt entirely off of him before lying back down again. This time, Joe followed him.

The fully clothed human lay on top of him, kissing his neck over and over. It was sweet, tender and it put a warm feeling in the pit of the Vulcan's stomach. How oh how could his kind ever surrender emotions when this was the reward for yielding?

Eager, impatient hands stroked his sides and the kisses trailed lower to his collarbone. Len almost felt helpless, but it was a special kind of helpless where there was joy in letting go simply because you knew someone else was there to take over. It was all he could do to struggle with the yellow tunic that hid Joseph from him, mumbling and groaning fitfully under soft lips before finally yanking the offending material free and letting it drop on the bed. He felt Joseph's chuckle as a rumble in the other man's muscular chest, the vibration fluttering against his stomach (which also appeared to be Joseph's new fascination). It drew a soft gasp from the smaller man and the sound went straight to Joseph's groin.

Joseph palmed Len's erection and he felt those deceptively powerful hands slam down on his shoulders, nails digging crescent moons into the flesh.

Len gasped, "No…stop."

It pained him, but Joseph did stop, simply relaxing despite his painful arousal and lying down fully on his friend, trying to catch his breath, "What's wrong?"

The slender man underneath him looked somewhat wary, "I can't do this to you, Joe. It's too selfish."

Calloused hands moved up from where they gripped Len's hips, sliding to cup his cheeks instead. Joseph smoothed at the skin with the pads of his thumbs, "Len…if anyone's being selfish here, it's me. Do you have any idea how badly I want you? You're going to have your head destroyed tomorrow and all I want right now is to…to sleep with you."

The Vulcan managed a somewhat breathless laugh despite the strain, "Does nothing ever touch you at all, Joe?"

Joseph made a soft noise of consideration before leaving a small bite against Len's pectoral, savouring the gasp he earned that time.

He whispered against the bite-mark, "It's what keeps us sane, Len…the separation of duty and personal life."

His friend didn't have time to respond before Joseph was kissing a line down to his navel, determined to see this through. His touches ignited a warm fire in Len and the Vulcan purred softly, digging his nails a little harder into Joseph's biceps. Len was beginning to squirm on the bed, his head leaned back and his eyes closed tightly as he rapidly lost himself to the power of the moment. His skin felt like he was wearing a coat of liquid flame, hot enough to burn and tingle, but not enough to hurt. The blaze travelled through his veins, right to the spot between his legs where it was building into an inferno. He couldn't deny the itch of desperation he felt.

"Although…" Joseph whispered between kisses, "I will confess…that sometimes the twain do meet. Now? I have a very…personal sort of duty to a man I've known for three years or more…"

Len whimpered faintly and used his strength to pull the captain back up to him, "Joe…please…now?"

"Shhhh, don't rush. I'm not going to do anything that will hurt you," Joseph leaned down, his eyes almost solid black with want, and he kissed the other man passionately again.

"Drawer," Len whispered.

It broke Joseph's concentration enough that he sat up and blinked at the younger man before turning to the nightstand next to the bed. He pulled open the drawer and rummaged around, wondering what exactly was so important in there. He felt a spark of realization as his fingers chanced across a small tube. Trying not to laugh, he shot his lover a quizzical look, pulling out the tube of oil and showing it to him triumphantly.

"I will explain later, but for right now, please just...," Len had followed Joseph into a sitting position, tugging on the front of his uniform trousers.

Joseph reached down to help Len fumble with the button and the fly on his pants, pushing them down his hips and kicking them off along with his boots. It was a clumsy process that took far longer than he would have liked, but he let out a little hiss of pleasure when his erection was finally free to the warm air of the cabin. He took a moment to return the favor, sliding his hands into the waistband of Len's underwear and pulling them off with a little bit of assistance. His hands lingered a little longer than they needed to, giving him a moment to enjoy the smooth skin on Len's long legs. Joseph let his fingertips trace down the groove of a muscle, drawing a mental map of that pale body underneath him.

He could have examined for hours had not a hot hand encircled his penis tentatively…asking, not demanding. Joseph let out another gratified hiss, thrusting against that hand and feeling the slid of oil. Apparently Len had been busy while he had idled down below. The fluid coated him and made him slick for entry before slowly withdrawing, having no desire to finish him too soon. It was enough to fully excite the lust that he'd been flirting with for the past several minutes, pushing him past the brink of thought.

In the next moments, the world seemed to explode and instantaneously reform itself for the two men. In rapid movements, frantic with need and devoid of thought, they were joined within and without, becoming as one creature. As Joseph pushed, he recognized this sensation of oneness from the meld two days ago, only slightly different. He now knew both Len's mind and his body; sweat, muscle, bone, blood, tears and all. Two days ago, Len had been the invader and now it was Joseph's turn…and yet it was not an invasion. It was a welcome unification of two beings that had long gravitated about each other, only now knowing the final collision that would bring either peace or torment once the dust had settled.

Len lay back on the bed, gripping Joseph's hips as tight as he could manage without damaging the man, gasping and studying the play of muscles in his lover's broad shoulders as he moved. He could feel Joseph's efforts against him, grinding into his hips and within, rocking under the force of it and trying desperately to stifle the noises that he made as he moved closer to climax. Whatever unison the two had achieved, it followed them even to that peak, both of them tensing together and choking out strained cries before collapsing bonelessly into one another.

Afterwards, there was only still and the almost silence that came as the two fought for air. In the background, there was still the faint buzz of Len's music player, the disc having ended somewhere between speaking and joining. Everything was a white haze of pure physical feeling, slowly giving way to color and sight once more, both men's eyes wide open.

Joseph was the first to speak, "Why…why hadn't we done that before?" It was a friendly joke.

Len punched him feebly in the arm, trying to ground himself in reality again, "Joe…please be a little serious."

"I am, Len," Joseph said, pulling out and laying beside the other man, pulling him into the powerful circle of his arms, "that was…earth shaking."

"I always thought you were straight," Len said seriously.

"Go figure," Joseph said with a shrug, "Brutal honesty, though? I think that felt right. I'd rather sleep with the man I've trusted my life with than some random woman I'd have to struggle to find something in common with."

Len buried his face in Joseph's shoulder, shaking his head, "You can NOT get attached, Joe. I'm still leaving."

Joe's hug grew more possessive than before, almost as though he sought to hide Len within him so he wouldn't let him go and no one would ever find him, "…Even after that? Len…I could protect you. I don't care if we can't meld at all…I want very much to be there for you once this is over."

"No, Joe…no. This can't happen," Len tried to pull away.

Joseph refused to permit it, "Will you at least leave a forwarding address with Starfleet so that we can stay in touch? There's always shore leave…"

"Joseph…please…I'm not going…I'm going into seclusion after this."

"Len, why are you doing this to us? This will hurt more than me…what about all of your friends here on the Seneca? The other people who have come to care for you?" Joseph tried to urge.

The Vulcan rolled them over so that Joseph was beneath him, staring him down with an intensity that would not be ignored, "I am sparing them pain."

"I don't understand, Lenny," Joe reached up to touch his face again.

Len looked down at him with clear pain in his brown eyes, the heady afterglow of sex banished by a more frightening reality. He was considering…weighing the options in his mind. He was fighting against something up there, trying to figure out if the truth was really what Joseph Hart needed to hear right now. It was like watching war behind those eyes.

He relented after what seemed like eternity, "Joseph…I'm not going to survive for more than a year after this."

The man underneath him froze, his eyes widening by degrees until he pushed the Vulcan over, sitting up and staring hard at him, "Explain."

"Do you remember when I told you that my sister was premature?" Len started slowly, trying to figure out the best way of going about this.

"Yes…you also said it wasn't something you talk about."

"Fuck Vulcan modesty right now. Joe, in our life cycle, there is a time of great mental and physical stress called the Pon Farr. It occurs once every seven years and, being a dispassionate people, we tend not to mate until then. In this time, we are compelled to seek out a mate and join with them both physically and telepathically." Len detailed carefully.

"I don't see how this means your death."

"Joseph, if a Vulcan does not satisfy Pon Farr BOTH physically and mentally, he or she dies."

The human captain looked as though the earth had been taken out from under him, "And if you can't mind-meld…if the Cerebral Silence is in place…you can't satisfy the Pon Farr."

"Yes. I will be the slave of the Pon Farr until I go mad and die. Joseph, my second Pon Farr cycle is next year. After my punishment tomorrow, my mind will be forever closed and I will not even be able pass on my Katra so that I may be reborn," the Vulcan doctor intoned, slowly lying down again.

Joseph stared for a moment before crawling back over and lying down beside him, tucking Len's head beneath his chin, "What is a katra?"

"My soul. When a Vulcan knows that death is near, they entrust their katra to a bearer who will carry it until they are reborn. I can never do that, Joseph. My katra will wither inside my body and die when I do," Len whispered against the captain's collarbone.

"Selen…" Joseph used his full name, hugging him close as the realization set in.

"Do you see now why I have to go? Joseph…I don't want you to have to watch me descend into madness and violence. What I did to those men on Vulcan is only a fraction of what I will be capable of in Pon Farr."

Instead of responding with words, Joseph simply pressed his lips to the top of Len's silky black head, kissing him tenderly. He was exhausted from the late hour and the rigorous physical strain they had been through. His mind was taxed from the worry and the need and the sudden epiphany that tomorrow he would lose his dear friend for all of eternity. Not even death would be able to bring them together again. Truly, the clever Captain Hart couldn't maneuver his way out of this one and it was terrifying to realize that there was no winning this. He had lost this game and the price of his failure was rapidly becoming too high. Sleep claimed him in stages until he was completely lost to it, Len still clutched to him, but awake.

~***~

Morning had come too quickly for Joseph as the lights on the ship rose to simulate the time. Within moments he was blinking, half-awake and completely unready to face the day. He had a hard time remembering exactly where he was or why his arm was bloody well asleep…at least until he saw the Vulcan curled up on it. It seemed like the kid had passed out halfway through the night, long after the captain himself had given in to sleep and uneasy dreams. The sight of him laying there brought everything back to Joseph in an unpleasant flash and he shuddered, leaning down to ruffle Len's hair, but refusing to wake him. He'd face the Vulcan High Command first and give his old friend a few more hours of peace.

He had bathed and dressed in silence before slowly walking towards his Ready Room. He did not trudge in his depression, no. Captain Joseph Hart NEVER trudged. Still, his steps were not quite as crisp and his face was not quite as professional as he'd hoped it would be. What did he really expect, though? He was going to the Ready Room with the dubious task of handing over his oldest friend to something that would considerably shorten his life expectancy. He was 26, for God's sakes. Whose life really needed to end at 27? Captain Hart rubbed his forehead slightly as the decks of the ship disappeared one by one, bringing him ever closer to the hardest thing he was sure he would ever do in his life.

Of all the times for his quick thinking to fail, it was now.

He found himself pausing in front of the Ready Room again as he had three days ago, trying to steady himself. He had to at least postpone the inevitable if he could manage it. It took him about ten minutes standing there to pull himself together enough to step inside, going past the doors and into the room where this time, only a single Vulcan waited. It was not who he had expected.

"Ambassador Sarek is not presiding?" Joseph asked, inclining his head towards the newcomer with respect.

"Affirmative. Ambassador Sarek's presence here yesterday was only necessitated by the delicate interspecies relations that we were forced to negotiate. As such matters have been settled, he is no longer required," the female Vulcan responded, her voice heavy with age and importance.

Joseph decided that it would be wise to settle this matter first, "Have your people decided on what to do concerning the three Romulans?"

She nodded, "While their actions precipitate war with the Romulan Empire, we have come to the conclusion that, in this case, we will consider this an isolated incident for the sake of the Federation and its resources. Clearly, now that Sova's information has been lost to all but the telepathic species, the Romulans will not return."

Part of Joseph was glad to note that war would be put aside in this case, but another part entirely wished that the talks had at least gone a little bit longer, "I am gratified to hear this."

"To be honest, Captain Hart, you have quite a reputation for adhering unyieldingly to regulation. We had thought that you would put up more of a fight in favor of the war," The Vulcan woman responded.

"I value myself as more of a flexible man than that," Joseph said with a raised eyebrow.

"Indeed. Your leniency in dealing with Selen has been greatly unexpected. Any other Captain would not have put up such an unnecessary fuss over a man who had betrayed him so deeply. As I understand, betrayal is a great personal crime among human kind."

Joseph couldn't help but bristle a little bit internally, though he kept his cool façade, "There were extenuating circumstances, you'll understand."

"Be that as it may, there is still something that must be done."

Suddenly, Joseph felt as though he were on full reverse as their almost-bickering brought them exactly to the very matter he had been hoping to avoid. He had nothing to say for a moment as his brain fumbled over the facts and he felt himself losing his control. To his credit, none of it showed and he managed to look quite passive even while his insides were in turmoil. He couldn't just hand his friend over without a fight. He couldn't willingly give him over to death.

Wait.

Wait just a moment.

There must have been a spark of divine discovery in his eyes, for the Vulcan woman raised an eyebrow, "Something is on your mind, Captain Hart?"

"As a matter of fact, Madame, there is. You have come to gather Selen for his sentence this morning, have you not?"

"You are well aware of this fact. I see no need to repeat what is mutually known."

Joseph took a deep breath, "Well…I refuse. Under the ruling of General Order 7, I refuse to commit my crewman."

The Vulcan woman's face was perplexed, "Nonsense. General Order 7 states that the only Death Penalty the Federation will allow is in the event that the offending party has made contact with Talos IV…"

"Precisely."

"Captain, if you understood that which we are proposing as a safety measure in the case of Selen, you would understand that this is not a death penalty."

"Incorrect," Hart countered smoothly, feeling like a tiger again, feeling the control return to him, "By preventing Selen from ever linking minds with another again, you are sentencing him to a slow death during his next Pon Farr."

The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly somewhat surprised that the Captain knew anything of the custom which most Vulcans considered taboo, "This is untrue. Mating is not precisely required in order to complete a Pon Farr. In many cases, intense meditation can ease the strain."

"Is it not true that you, as a people, banished Selen for being mentally and emotionally infirm?" The Captain's question came quickly and without mercy.

"Affirmative," the Vulcan responded with equal alacrity.

"Then is it not true that a handicapped individual such as Selen may not find the necessary peace from meditation that a fully trained Vulcan might?"

There was consideration in the woman's dark eyes, "This is, indeed, true."

"If that is the case, then I submit that turning over my crewman to you would be sentencing him to death. Your people are among the founding races of the Federation. Can you condone this, knowing what you now know?" Joseph felt suddenly confident once more.

At first, the Vulcan woman said nothing, slowly rolling the information over in her mind. When presented with the logic of it, she truly couldn't compel the Captain to hand over his crewman. There were things that baffled her about the nature of the information and its source, but the information itself was very plain and that was all most Vulcans ever needed. She set her jaw, her hands folded deep within her sleeves as she came to her conclusion.

"Something must still be done."

"What is there to prevent with Selen? He is a brave, just and intelligent individual."

"He has the unchecked temper of a primitive Vulcan and the strength to match. To allow such a thing to go unhindered…uncontrolled…it could be a devastating mistake. If he were to father children, surely they would lack the same inhibitions as their sire. Vulcans are never creatures to be trifled with, Captain Hart, especially not when they are in such a state as Selen."

Joseph offered after his own personal moment of consideration, "What if I were to promise that he would neither breed nor remain without military escort?"

"Explain how you propose to keep such a promise."

"As for the military escort, that goes without saying. He is a high ranking officer of Starfleet and therefore will always be in the presence of other officers who he trusts. Unless it is to protect us, Len has exhibited no previous inclination to violence or even negative emotions with us," Joseph outlined.

The delegate nodded and canted her head, eyebrow raised, "And as to breeding? He will have to choose a mate for his Pon Farr."

The captain took a deep breath, "I will offer myself."

"…Captain. I hope you understand the gravity of what you are proposing. There is a marked degree of danger in it," The woman cautioned.

"With all due respect, Madame…I am prepared to handle it," Joseph said, smiling just a bit, "You will find I am prepared to do most anything when it comes to the safety of this crew."

"Yet I wonder, Captain, how much of this was done on selfish whim. Your interest in Selen's welfare seems to extend beyond that of a simple 'captain-subordinate' relationship," the female Vulcan almost seemed to chide.

Captain Hart smiled a little bit wider, though it was still restrained and professional as he moved to escort the delegate out of the Ready Room, "I am afraid, Madame, that the rest of the explanation is something of a delicate nature. I suspect, however, that you are already well aware of this fact."

"Indeed," the woman said, almost smirking, but not quite, "Live long and prosper, Captain Hart."

~***~

It was the ship's whistle that pulled Selen out of one of the deepest, easiest sleeps he'd known in his 26 years of life. The first thing he saw upon waking was the thready red fibers of his pillow and he groaned, sitting up on his knees (he had rolled over onto his stomach at some point in the night, apparently). He rubbed at his eyes and wondered dimly what time it was and what exactly was going on before the whistle sounded again. It didn't seem to want to stop until he got up off of his ass and responded. The doctor quickly stumbled off of his bed and tugged on a uniform as quickly as he could manage, making his way across the room to the wall nearest his computer terminal and thumbing the switch.

"Len here." Even to his own ears, his voice sounded hoarse.

::Lieutenant Commander Selen report to Sickbay for your shift.::

"I…what?" Len's head was still fuzzy from sleep, still trying to piece things together.

The smile over the intercom system was almost audible, ::There's been a change in this morning's plans, Doctor. Report to Sickbay. We're pulling out.::

Suddenly, everything seemed to catch up with Len's still-sleepy brain and he let out a small, involuntary sound of surprise. A rush of disorientation hit him when he recalled that today, this very morning, he was supposed to be down on Vulcan having his mind tampered with. He was SUPPOSED to come back to the ship only long enough to request formal letters of resignation and to hop a ride to the nearest M-Class planet where he could hide for the remainder of his miserably short life. Why then was he still here on board the Seneca with orders to report to his post? He turned back to the intercom to ask.

It seemed that the voice on the other end of the line was well ahead of him, ::I will explain later tonight, doctor. For now, I need you at Sickbay. We're training a new Ensign at the Communications Console, so I'm counting on you and Zoe to keep everything running smoothly.::

Selen looked baffled for a minute before nodding, "Aye, sir. Len out."

The Vulcan doctor took a moment afterwards to just stare at the intercom before shaking his head and wishing very suddenly for his hat. He felt oddly exposed without it, but he knew he'd likely never see it again and he didn't really feel the urge to get a new one. After a moment, he felt as ready as he was ever going to be and he walked to his door, feeling oddly sore. A second revelation came and he blushed, hot and green. Best to keep that to himself until he had time to discuss it with their illustrious Captain…after all, it was his fault.

~***~

"So you told me you'd explain," Len said as he and Joseph sat in the Briefing Lounge later that night, a deck of cards lying between them.

The day had been strange, but oddly true to form for the Vulcan doctor. He had found the Sickbay much the same as when he had left it and Zoe, in all her polite delicacy, had carefully avoided any tender subjects with him. As a matter of fact, she may not have even thought about them. Everything ran as it always had, including their playful, friendly banter as they looked their machines over and researched. There weren't any wounded today so it was mainly up to the two resident doctors to catch up and make sure their relationship was still in a good place. Len was happy to report that it was.

"Did I?" Joseph asked as he looked at his hand.

"Don't' be an ass, Captain. I'd like to think this is all fairly important," the doctor said, laying down three cards and picking up another three, frowning at his hand.

Joe smirked, "You know, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you were a little more Vulcan. Your poker face is terrible."

"Joseph!"

"It was just a little bit of creative negotiation, Len," The Captain replied softly, deftly guiding the conversation back.

"You're not going to tell me more?" Len asked, setting his cards face down on the table for a moment.

"There's going to be a time and a place for a full explanation, Len. For right now, suffice to say that you get to keep your mind the way it is," Joseph didn't want to tell him the whole thing just yet.

Len's dark brown eyes cut right into him, "Alright. I'll leave you your secrecy, Captain. As for last night…"

"What about it?" Joseph asked curiously.

"I understand that it was something done in the heat of the moment while you were under the impression that I would be leaving the next day. If you want, we'll forget it happened," Len pushed his cards around a bit.

"Honestly? I'd rather that we didn't just forget it. I don't know that we're lovers or just really close friends with benefits, but I know it was too special to just write off as an accident. In my experience as a Captain, you take true closeness when you can get your hands on it," the dark haired captain replied

Len smiled and flipped his cards over, "You always know the most eloquent ways to say things, Joseph. Royal Flush."

Joseph gave him a mock frustrated look and Len laughed a bit. The captain snorted and tossed his hand to the side, admitting defeat.

"T'Jenn resigned," the captain said, bringing up the other important topic for the evening while watching Len shuffle their cards.

Len's lips quirked for a moment and his face drew down, but he didn't say anything about it other than, "Who's the new Ensign in her place?"

"Ensign Bai-Lin. He's half Bajoran from what I understand and a very talented Linguist. He seems pleasant enough, but a little nervous," Joseph replied.

"Now all we need is a Chief of Engineering for that gaggle down in the lower decks and I'd say our crew is just about perfect," the Vulcan doctor said, laying out fresh cards for a new game, a low smile still creasing his features.

His captain smiled faintly, looking more than pleased, "Perfection is subjective, Len. I'd say we get along just fine with what we've got right now."

"Pick up your cards, Captain. I do believe we've got another hand to play," Len challenged, his eyes bright, feeling that everything truly did have the potential to be alright.

"Fine. Just remember, Lenny…you asked for it."

~***~

Author's Notes: So ends Chapter Four. Before we go, I intend to provide a short list of all the named characters so far to aid in case there is any confusion.

Captain Joseph Hart (Human – American – 36): The Captain of the USS Seneca. Captain Hart is a gentleman and a strategist. His interests include work, work, work, playing cards with his Lieutenant Commander and joking around with his Commander, Aaron Hill. He graduated with honors from Starfleet Academy at the age of 25, having excelled in courses such as Interspecies Ethics, Interspecies Protocol and Intrasystems Peacekeeping Operations.

Commander Aaron Hill (Human – American/Deep South – 35): The Commander and First Officer of the USS Seneca. Commander Hill is a sarcastic womanizer. His interests include his own special brand of interspecies relations, drinking a round with his distinguished captain, harassing their Vulcan Communications Officer and trying to embarrass the ship's Lieutenant Commander. He graduated late from Starfleet Academy after the death of his wife, Mary Hill, having specialized in courses such as Advanced Relativistic Mechanics and Statistical Mechanics. He is currently pursuing a relationship with Zoe Adele.

Lieutenant Commander Zoe Adele (Human – French – 29): A Lieutenant Commander and the Chief Medical Officer of the USS Seneca. Zoe is a practical, but kind-hearted woman. Her interests include collecting medical antiquities, reading, chatting with her fellow Lieutenant Commander and giving advice. She graduated from Starfleet Medical Academy and Starfleet Academy with honors, having specialized in courses such as Biochemistry, Exobiology and Klingon Physiology. She is currently considering a relationship with Aaron Hill.

Lieutenant Commander Selen (Vulcan – 26): A Lieutenant Commander and doctor of the USS Seneca. Selen, also known as 'Len' or 'Lenny', is outgoing, enthusiastic and often emotional. His interests include collecting medical charts, reading, listening to music (specifically of the 1920s and 1960s), beating his Captain at cards and studying. He graduated from Starfleet Medical Academy and Starfleet Academy with a specialty in Xenovirology. He is considered Captain Hart's closest friend and sometimes fling.

Lieutenant T'Jenn (Vulcan – 21): A former Lieutenant and Communications Officer of the USS Seneca. T'Jenn is a paragon of Vulcan behavior and personality. Her interests remain unknown as she was not fond of fraternizing with crew members or leaving her post. She remained a mystery even after she left the Seneca. She graduated from Starfleet Academy at a young age in order to monitor her brother, Selen. She specialized in classes geared towards Xenolinguistics. She has resigned from her position with Starfleet, presumably to avoid her brother and the negative effect he has on her emotional control.

Lieutenant Leila Adair (Human – Middle Eastern – 30): A Lieutenant and Navigator of the USS Seneca. Leila is a very learned and erudite woman. Her interests include ancient history, antiquities, cultural studies, and collecting artwork. She graduated from Starfleet Academy second third in her class, her highest marks surprisingly in Advanced Hand-to-Hand Combat. She keeps up a very close friendship with her twin sister on Earth and Oliver Wolfram aboard the Seneca.

Lieutenant Oliver Wolfram (Human – German – 30): A Lieutenant and Pilot of the USS Seneca. Oliver is honest, simple and unswervingly loyal. His interests include communicating with his wife, communicating with his daughter and playing chess with Lieutenant Adair during their periods off-shift. He was considered an exemplary pilot during his days at the Academy and often served on dummy-crews during the Kobayashi Maru exam. He maintains that his reason for joining Starfleet was to provide for his family's happiness.

Ensign Jian Bai-Ling (Human/Bajoran – Chinese – 22): An Ensign and the new Communications Officer of the USS Seneca. Bai-Ling is shy, formal and withdrawn, somewhat unsure of himself yet. His interests have yet to be seen.


	5. In the Hall of the Clockwork Prometheus

The Seneca Missions  
Chapter Five: In the Hall of the Clockwork Prometheus  
Rating: PG-13

The Story So Far: In the previous chapter, Captain Joseph Hart, through careful political maneuvering, was able to rescue his friend and Xenovirologist, Len. Out of a desperate need for closeness, the two submitted to a more intimate relationship with one another, remaining friends but leaving their nights open to occasional dalliances. T'Jenn resigned commission aboard the Seneca and a new Ensign was brought onto the Bridge to replace her.

In This Chapter: Accosted by an unknown ship of mysterious origin, the crew of the Seneca find themselves presented with a strange new mission.

~***~

Oliver Wolfram sighed and prodded the pawn that sat in front of him. He was losing this game very quickly just like he lost so many others no matter what side he chose to play (it had been his turn to be white this time). He didn't want to make his next move. As soon as he did, Leila would put her rook in place and it would be checkmate. The woman really was too good at this. The blonde German gave her a suffering look before sighing and shifting his king to the side, watching as she went in for the kill. Oliver was just happy she didn't brag.

Leila never bragged, though. She was a perfect lady and a scholar during their games just as in everything else. Maybe that was why Oliver liked hanging out with her so much in their precious free time. She was a woman, but not a woman at the same time. No, that was a confusing thought. Oliver supposed he liked the fact that Leila seemed to walk a perfect middle ground…never boozing or chatting about sex, yet also never gossiping or giving into a need to preen. She didn't ever seem to give in to one stereotype or the other…she was just Leila. Oliver, an honest man himself, appreciated the perfect ease she demonstrated when it came to simply being. Not bragging when she kicked his ass at chess was just an added bonus.

"I am beginning to think that I would be better suited to checkers, Fraulein Leila," Oliver said woefully, looking at how soundly he had been beaten.

"Oh don't be silly, Oliver. Who would I play chess with, then?" Leila said softly, a calm smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Perhaps inquire with the new fellow?" Oliver jerked his head in the direction of their new Communications Officer who, incidentally, seemed to be one of the only other people in the lounge.

Ensign Bai-Lin wasn't really new, per se. He'd been on the ship at least since her last visit to Earth, but it was only the recent resignation that had brought him into a promotion on the Bridge. Leila studied him for a moment where he sat alone, bent over a sketch pad. He wasn't as skinny as Len was, but that wasn't saying much since the Vulcan man was nearly a scarecrow. The boy was…petite…short and small, not nearly as robust as Oliver or Aaron. His hair was a deep, nutty auburn color cut very precisely and strictly to regulation, combed over from one side and brushed forward towards his forehead. His eyes were a dark, forest green and his skin held the yellowed tan complexion of his Asiatic human heritage. His nose was small and well-shaped, creased very faintly with the four-ridged bone structure common only to the Bajora. Currently, he was biting down a bit on his lower lip, focused deeply on whatever he was working on.

Leila shook her head, "Oliver, he's busy. I don't want to interrupt him."

"Someone should. It seems to me that every one of the officers on the Bridge has a friend they spend their time with. The new Ensign does not. He spends too much time alone," Oliver said stubbornly, refusing to set aside a chance to be charitable.

His chess-partner smiled serenely, "Do you really want me to, Oliver?"

"Ja!" Oliver replied, nodding once and looking proud of himself.

"Very well," Leila stood with the elegance of a cat, walking over towards where the young man was sitting and working.

She sat down across from him with undeniable grace, gently clearing her throat in a very inoffensive way.

Somehow, the boy was still startled, falling back a bit from his seat and gripping the pad close to his chest, "I'm sorry! Am I in your seat? Am I in the way?"

Leila looked very vaguely surprised by the outburst, "No…no…I am…"

"Lieutenant Leila Adair." The boy cut in.

The woman smiled, "Correct. I merely came over to proposition that you come and join Oliver and I in our game of chess. He seems to have lost his enthusiasm for it and I was hoping you could stand in."

Oliver waved genially from his seat to confirm her claim and the young Ensign blushed, "I am…very poor at chess."

The look on Bai-Lin's face suggested that he thought Leila would become frustrated and leave once he told her of his lack of chess prowess. At least, he certainly seemed to be expecting some sort of negative reaction. Leila almost chuckled at his surprise when, not only did she not relinquish her seat, but Oliver also ambled over to join. Both of them waited patiently for him to relax and set his sketch pad down. As he did so, Leila took a private moment to note the strange words written there.

"It is alright, Ensign. I too find chess to be beyond my limits, sometimes," Oliver reassured with a comically heavy sigh.

"Would you mind, Ensign, telling me what exactly you are working with there?" Leila inquired politely.

Bai-Lin blushed a little deeper and replied shyly, "I was attempting to replicate a love poem in Klingonese…"

Oliver blinked, "I was not aware that the Klingon people regularly indulged in poetry."

"They don't. The poem was Bajoran initially. I was just toying with the translation…" Bai-Lin replied, ducking his head a bit.

"Is there any reason you chose Klingon as the language of translation?" Leila asked, genuinely curious.

"…Linguist humor, honestly," the ensign sounded embarrassed at his own bookish behavior.

Leila actually allowed herself a small chuckle that time, already just a little bit charmed by the shy new boy from the Bridge. At least he was a far sight more interesting than T'Jenn. There was something intensely magnetic about a young man who translated love poems into Klingonese because he thought it was funny. She noticed a blush rising on his somewhat untested face and she shook her head, still smiling over his little joke.

"Please understand that I'm not laughing at you, Ensign. I happen to think that your joke is funny," Leila said, looking at the poem again.

Oliver seemed touched by the humor too, clapping the boy on the back almost hard enough to bowl him over. It winded him at the very least.

"Tell us, Ensign, what is your name?" The German man asked, quite pleased that he had badgered Leila into helping them get acquainted with the strange child.

"Um…Jian Bai-Lin," the small man replied.

"Oh! Your father was Chinese?" Leila inquired, always content to discuss culture.

Bai-Lin shook his head, "No no, my father was Bajoran. My mother was Chinese. He took her name because he liked the way it sounded."

"Would you mind if I were to ask how your parents met? Bajor and China are both very rich in culture and I am curious about how they came to intermingle," Leila found that it was easy to indulge her curious nature with the accommodating ensign.

"Actually, both of my parents resided in New York City. My father was a Linguistics professor at New York University and my mother was a Dance teacher at Tisch School of the Arts," Bai-Lin said, slowly beginning to unwind.

Oliver just sat quietly and listened as the two culture-buffs went at it. Of course, his silence didn't mean that he felt left out. Oliver wasn't a loud or intrusive man in the least and as a matter of fact, his true test of a friend was in how comfortable the silences were rather than the conversations. Right now, he was feeling pretty damn comfortable around the new kid. He had a very mild and subtle sort of humorous charm to him and Oliver had to confess that he liked Bai-Lin a little bit on the shy side. There were a lot of boisterous personalities bouncing around on this ship and it was very nice to find a good quiet one every once in awhile.

~***~

Commander Aaron Hill's eyes narrowed sharply as he considered the almost-speck dancing at the edge of their Viewer, "I don't like it, Joe."

The Commander was leaning on the back of the Captain's Chair as he studied the thing, canting his head first to one side, then the other. Joseph himself was seated in the chair, his feet firmly planted to keep from shifting back and forth with the other man's constant movement. He was tempted to tell the Cajun to just get the hell off of his chair, but checked his tongue in the interest of not raising his friend's ire. After all, Aaron was still a little peevish about the crack his nose had suffered almost two weeks prior and he insisted constantly that it had pushed the whole arrangement to the side. Joseph couldn't see the problem, but he never said so.

In front of them, Len leaned easily against the railing that separated the Captain's Chair from the rest of the bridge. His posture was relaxed, but Joseph had learned to read the tension through the muscles in his back that showed beneath the uniform top. It was clear that Len disliked the odd little speck every bit as much as Aaron did, he was just being a little bit quieter about it. The Vulcan reached up to rub the back of his neck, looking thoroughly baffled.

"I can't explain it, Captain." Len spoke, turning back to the other two men and shaking his head, "It's been floating in front of us for at least two days. If Leila's right, it's been keeping a very precise distance between us. If we slow down, it slows down. If we speed up, it speeds up."

Aaron's eyebrow kicked up, "Stating the obvious is a damn poor way of filling up dead air, Lenny."

The doctor turned a glare back on the Commander and Joseph found himself having to mediate, "Aaron, that's enough. This thing has us all tense. I would consider it a very special favor if you didn't exacerbate the situation any further."

Aaron just glared a little bit and huffed under his breath, but at least he was silenced for the time being and Len didn't bother to hazard another comment after the poor response to his previous one. For the moment, the three just stood in awkward silence, a triad against the storm in the midst of the ever-shifting sea of recruits, ensigns and officers who manned the Bridge. Indeed, for two days the strange anomaly of space tailed them doggedly, making sure to always keep them within a very safe range, no matter what speed they attempted. It was frustrating for Hart and he fervently wished that this ship had a Science Officer to speak of, but they'd unfortunately lost the last one during an accident in Engineering. Now that was two Officer Posts that he'd have to fill and he still had no one he trusted enough to fill them with. It didn't help that Aaron's normal teasing for Len had turned into something akin to stand-offishness since the mess on Vulcan.

It seemed that the Southerner took to secrecy a little less gracefully than his captain.

"You should ask it what it wants," Aaron prodded Len, mocking his Vulcan heritage.

Lenny glared back at the truculent First Officer, "You know, Aaron, I really hope you don't intend on making me your new whipping boy."

"Hey, a guy's gotta have some fun and now that your sister's gone…" Aaron smirked, clearly enjoying the chance to take his frustrations out on someone who would take the bait.

"Just because you know my blood's green now doesn't mean I'm going to take your nonsense anymore than I did before," Len ribbed back in a somewhat less than good-natured way.

The Commander's smile turned almost nasty, "Oh? What are you going to do about it? Reason me into submission?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of seeing whether or not you've got a glass jaw, Hill," Len bristled.

Joseph banged his hand down on the arm of his command chair to get the attention his two top officers, giving them a glare that put their own to shame. It culled the heat of the fight and both of the men backed down, growing somewhat sullen. If Hart didn't know any better, he would have sworn that the two actually enjoyed the adrenaline rush they got from this new habit of almost-fist-fighting. Some days it was a little bit amusing, but other days it made him want to pull his hair out and throw both of the argumentative troublemakers in the brig. Today was one of the latter sorts and, in his own subtle way; he had just let both of them know it. For a moment, both of them were quiet, looking back at the viewer and letting the almost-brawl drop.

Hart sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"…At least you're better than the new kid," Hill couldn't really stand the silence.

"What, Commander Hill, is wrong with Ensign Bai-Lin?" The Captain sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

The Cajun shrugged, "Kid's kind of fruity, Joe."

Len couldn't suppress a snort of ironic amusement at that statement and it earned him a sharp look from their prim Captain.

Hart covered his momentary embarrassment as though it had never existed, "What makes you say that about him? He's only been on the Bridge for two weeks and he has performed admirably as our Communications Officer."

"His cabin is ten times more disturbing than Lenny-boy's precious lab. He's got pictures of…men…in tights by his bed…" Aaron could hardly suppress a shudder.

"You know his mother was a very well respected dancer, right, Commander?" Len asked with a wry smirk on his face.

"Doesn't explain the Musical Theatre books sitting on his shelf. The kid listens to opera for chrissakes," Aaron complained, feeling somewhat overtly uncomfortable with the perceived level of homosexuality suddenly present on the bridge.

After a moment of attempting to contain himself, Len surrendered the battle to his own mirth and turned quickly away from Aaron, trying to hide the smile that was forcing its way onto his face. The Captain didn't even have to shoot a look his way this time before he quickly excused himself back off of the Bridge and into the lift. He headed back to the Sickbay, leaving only Joseph, Aaron and the small team of Relief Officers behind. The Captain had to admit that he was relieved to see the doctor go since it seemed that Len was perfectly content to blow their cover. It wasn't as though they spent the night together constantly…every once in awhile they'd indulge…but it wasn't like the stiff Captain wished for god and everyone on deck to know about their occasional dalliances.

"…I guess I offended the doc," Aaron said, blinking and watching the Vulcan's retreat.

Hart took it as the perfect opportunity to smooth things over, "Well, you are being slightly hyper-critical of the boy, Aaron. He's good at what he does."

"Hn," the First Officer grunted, looking back to the mysterious object on the viewer.

Joseph followed the line of his vision and frowned, his lips pulling into a thin line of disapproval. There had to be some way to figure out exactly what it was this thing was and it did not give him a comfortable feeling to know how completely in the dark he and his top officers were. A part of him had kept them treading very carefully for the past few days just in case the thing was some sort of life form that could be agitated with enough rough treatment. They had proceeded gently, treading the waters at impulse power and it had yielded nothing, yet the Captain wasn't ready to use extreme offensive measures just yet.

He settled on a more neutral order, "Full stop."

"Captain?" Aaron asked, looking somewhat surprised.

"It's been moving as we move, right? Let's see what our little friend does when we STOP moving. Aaron, go to Science Station for a moment. You can at least keep an eye on scanners, right?" Joseph said, pushing himself up out of his seat and walking over to stand before the viewer.

"Aye sir," Aaron said as he walked to the console, but continued to himself, "Don't know what the hell you're thinkin', but I'm behind ya."

The Seneca pulled to a slow stop in the middle of space, experiencing a complete lack of motion as all power was pulled from her thrusters. Joseph stared hard at the viewer as they lost forward momentum, daring the little ball at the edge of the screen to do something different, to give them a sign. If there was going to be a confrontation, it would be here in the void of space's vacuum. There was no way he would dock near a planet and risk bringing that thing within even a thousand miles of civilization. Captain Hart was a politician as far as his ship's commission was concerned. He could stand a waiting game. The question was, could their little tag-along?

The Captain didn't even turn to look when the lift doors opened and three of his Bridge officers returned from off-duty. He felt silently gratified to Captain a crew so in-tune with their vessel that they came running when the slightest thing felt 'off'.

Leila was the first to speak, "Captain, has there been some development with the bogey?"

"Unfortunately no, Mister Adair. We are attempting to force one now," he replied.

Understanding the situation, Leila and Oliver made their way back to their stations, sending the Relief Officers away. In a time of crisis, whether they were on-duty or not, Joseph found that his main Bridge Staff had a somewhat unhealthy habit of being too loyal for their own good. He didn't protest as his prized Navigator and Pilot took their places at the helm in front of him. He noted that the new Ensign had returned to his post at the same time as Leila and Oliver, already putting the earpiece back where it usually rested alongside his face. It looked like their new boy had markings of true character starting in that small body even though he looked rather nervous still.

"Mister Jian?" The Captain spoke, turning to the Ensign just a bit, "Attempt a hailing frequency. I want to see if we can establish communications with this thing. Try to confirm belligerency or not if you can."

"You're assuming it's sentient, Captain," Aaron said from his temporary post.

"No…I'm just not ruling out the possibility that it may be," Joseph corrected mildly.

The Cajun man shook his head, "Well, whatever it may or may not be, scanners aren't picking up any signs of life on that hunk of junk, Joe. It's totally dead over there."

"Captain?" Bai-Lin called from where he sat at Communications.

The tall, dark Captain turned to look his way and he immediately found something interesting on his console rather than in the man's imposing face, "Captain…I'm not picking up frequencies of any kind from that thing. I'm just getting this…grinding, ticking noise. It's like the thing is reflecting our own signals back at us."

Captain Hart paced over to the Ensign's station curiously, leaning over and holding out his hand for the earpiece. The Asiatic boy pulled it out quickly and handed it over, watching as Joseph's face pulled into a tight expression of concentration. Joseph Hart couldn't quite fathom what he was hearing. It was like putting your ear to the back of an old 19th century wind-up clock, hearing the gears whirling away in the guts of the thing, the cogs grinding and the springs coiling tight. There was a bit of distortion over what he could hear and when he finally pulled the earpiece out he still had no idea what they were dealing with. If anything, he was more baffled than he had been before.

Aaron blew out a heavy sigh and pushed himself away from his console, "I'm stumped. If the readings over here are correct, then this thing is a giant hunk of stagnating metal and…what the hell?"

"What is it, Commander?" The Captain asked with a tight voice, looking over at his friend.

"It…my scanners are all dead! They just went nuts and then shut themselves down!" The First Officer shoved his fingers through his hair and stood up in disgust.

Oliver sounded equally surprised, "Captain, we're still functional, but our equipment…our readings…they've all ceased functioning also."

Bai-Lin reached for a nearby Tricorder, holding it up and waving it slowly, trying to get any sort of helpful reading, "There seems to be a…well…some sort of magnetic disturbance, Captain. That may be what's causing all of our scanners to go haywire."

"We never woulda guessed," Aaron snarked at the kid.

"Captain! The Unidentified Bogey is approaching rapidly on the forward viewer. Sir, it seems that this thing was further away than we originally anticipated. It's growing in size, Captain. Why…it must be massive…" Leila said, looking up at the viewer in awe.

"It's drawing us in using nothing but magnetism…" Joseph said softly as he pulled away from the Communication console, making his way back to his Command chair once more.

"It's primitive, Captain," Aaron said, shaking his head and moving to stand behind Joseph's right shoulder.

"Primitive, but brilliant all the same. Consider, Mr. Hill, that a Constitution Class starship is composed of nearly ninety percent solid metal, if not more. What better way to moor alongside us…or even ram us?" Joseph counseled, watching the ship's approach and carefully monitoring its colossal size. He estimated that it was roughly the size of another starship, though completely rotund like a moon.

"Orders, sir?" Leila asked, looking over her shoulder.

Joseph thought for a moment, "Remain at full stop."

The Captain flipped a switch on the arm of the chair, listening as the closed-com system sprang to life, "Forward shields at full."

Bai-Lin held up a hand from his station, the other hand closed over his ear as if to secure the small silver piece there, "Captain…I'm receiving an attempt to communicate…it sounds like…morse code…"

"Can you translate it, Ensign?"

"It's archaic, sir. I have to admit that I've never had to attempt something like this before."

"I asked if you could do it, Ensign."

"…Yes sir. I need a moment."

All eyes remained on the viewer while the tiny new Ensign struggled with the antediluvian form of communication. His brows furrowed in deeply, causing the small ridges in the middle of his nose to scrunch together. He tapped his fingers on the console in front of him and murmured under his breath as he tried exactly to recall the sequences and what they all meant. There was an air of tension settling over the Bridge. If this thing's first and only communication was in a language that they no longer understood then there was no telling where this moment could lead, especially with the thing looming ever closer on the viewer.

Suddenly, Bai-Lin began speaking, "C…O…N…T…A…C…T…W…E…H…A…V…E..Captain! Captain, the language is evolving. I can hardly understand how it's doing this, but communications are shifting over to Binary."

"Keep going, Ensign."

Bai-Lin nodded, speaking for the messenger, "We…have made…contact…Eureka…?" The linguist looked surprised and perplexed.

Then came the shift.

As soon as Bai-Lin finished his translation, light began to fill the bridge in his vicinity and he began to grow slightly grainy, beginning to disappear as though caught in a primitive transporter beam. He looked far too surprised to do anything about it, as did the rest of the ship. It seemed that only the hot-headed Aaron Hill was prepared to move, his body springing into action (likely before his brain had time to catch up). He let out a yell of shock before diving across the Bridge to try and grab the Ensign before he could be taken, only succeeding in getting himself caught as well. In front of the Seneca, the odd configuration had come to a stop, everything seeming to compress into one single, gut-wrenching moment of pure confusion.

The very next moment both Aaron Hill and Bai-Lin Jiang were gone.

~***~

Whatever it was that had taken the two from their spot on the Bridge had been shoddy at best, mortally dangerous and humiliating at the worst. Instead of dropping them on their feet like a normal transporter unit, both were dumped unceremoniously onto the floor in a tangle of limbs. They landed atop one another like puppets with cut strings, Aaron squawking awkwardly when he found himself at the bottom. The floor they had landed on was hard and unyielding, both of them making a very unsettling 'clang' as they hit the ground. It felt just about as good as it sounded.

For the record, it didn't sound very pretty.

Winded, confused and dazed, neither of the men seemed quite ready to move immediately. They both groaned and closed their eyes against the harsh, bare light of the room they had been dropped into. Their heads were ringing and they realized almost in unison that wherever they were was ridiculously cold. Aaron was the first to really move, gripping his poor, aching skull and rolling onto his back while Bai-Lin tried to shuffle off with as much dignity as he could manage. It was an awkward effort that ended with the two of them sitting on their rumps and looking like prize fools while they blinked stupidly in the glare of the light.

Aaron's voice was garbled when he tried to speak, "Where the hell are we?"

Bai-Lin flopped over onto his back, apparently more light-headed than he'd given himself credit for. As his vision cleared, he stared up at the ceiling of wherever they were. It was a somewhat ugly thing, made up entirely of patchwork metal sheets and held together by assemblies of bolts. When he rolled over onto his side, he found that the entire room was that way, scattered here and there with huge collections of wire, gears and parts. He winced when he saw something that resembled an arm poking out of one pile.

"Commander, I believe that we are inside the 'Bogey'," Bai-Lin said with a cough as he tried to sit up again (much more slowly this time).

"What did they use? How could they have beamed us out of our own ship?" Aaron snarled as he fought to regain his feet.

The linguist shook his head in honest defeat as he followed the Commander's example, standing and beginning tentatively to wander about. They seemed to be in a closed room stacked almost end to end with the mess that Bai-Lin had noticed upon first inspection. There wasn't much here at all if you discounted the junk. He made a small sound and walked over to sit on a crate, grimacing when he realized that he was sitting right next to the hand.

"What's wrong?" Aaron asked.

Bai-Lin leaned down and went to grab the severed appendage, pulling it up out of the junk to show the Commander. He was only shocked when the thing was capped in wires instead of bone and rotted flesh.

"I…I don't' know, sir. What do you make of this?" Bai-Lin held the arm out.

"What do I make of it? I make that we're in some madman's playroom and we need to get the hell out of here pronto, kid. You don't happen to be packing a phaser do you?"

"I'm afraid not, sir."

Aaron sighed, walking towards a door he noticed hidden behind a stack of crates off on the far wall, "Of course not. We never have the damn things when it would be convenient."

As his hand closed around the knob, almost the entire thing began to move towards him with such explosive force that the Commander was thrown backwards on his ass. He landed with a thump and a curse, leaving Bai-Lin to stare in mounting anxiety as the shadow that stood in the door. It was average height and ramrod stiff, arms held straight at its sides and eyes glowing dimly in the shadow that lay beyond the doorframe. Long, scraggly hair (or fur) trailed down over its hunched shoulders, giving it the appearance of a wild, angry beast. From where he had been thrown back on his tailbone, Aaron could only stare in growing dismay while Bai-Lin was much more proactive about things.

"RUN!"

Whatever it was standing there in the doorway had begun to walk inside with slow, punctuated steps beyond the doorway. Its pace was ominous and the newest Communications Officer didn't feel like sticking around to see exactly what it was the odd abomination wanted. Instead, he was on his feet and tearing ass across the echoing metal deck in seconds, only taking time to grab the shoulder of Aaron's uniform and haul him up with the lack of difficulty born in adrenal-washed panic. Not even the Commander himself seemed to have had time to process what was going on before he found himself jerked to his feet, fighting to keep his balance and almost pitching forward right back onto the floor. The next thing the First Officer of the Seneca knew, they were barreling head-on for the monster in the doorway, set on a damned collision course!

"Ensign! Ensign you've gotta stop! We're gonna ram that thing!" Aaron tried to yell, tried to dig his heels in.

It didn't work.

The young man kept right on running, eventually plowing into the thing in front of them…and going right past it. The thing had moved!

"What the…? It got out of the way!" The southern commander yelled, starting to run as well.

If that monster wasn't in their way anymore, then he was sure as hell going to pick up the pace and find whatever poor excuse for a transporter room this ship had. As it was, they were in a long, winding hallway made of the same scrapped-together metal as the room they had been dropped into. It gleamed every color of the metallic spectrum…silvers and golds and even low, dingy coppers. Naturally, it couldn't have been made of those materials…it never would have held up in the vacuum of space…but the colors were much the same. There hadn't been much thought to architecture when the hallway was made, the floor inclining up, down and at crazy angles as the two ran. Every time they passed a doorway, Aaron was acutely aware of strange gears and pulleys.

It was only a matter of time before both of the Seneca men found out exactly what they did.

As they neared what had to be the fifth portcullis since their escape from the room, the gears began to turn with an unsettling, creaking sort of whine. All of the gadgets and configurations about the door came to life in a way that no human of the 23rd century would still be familiar with. It forced both of the men to a screeching halt and it was all they could do to stare in rapidly mounting alarm as the door in front of them slammed shut, blocked off.

Bai-Lin looked ready to pass out from the upset they had suffered, but Aaron kept him upright, growling, "If you faint on me, I will kick your ass, got it?"

The hybrid nodded, his green eyes huge and dilated, "What do we do, Commander?"

"I honestly don't have a damn clue. We don't have phasers, we don't have communicators and if they could have beamed us out on the Seneca they would have by now. Our best bet is to backtrack."

"You mean you want us to go all the way back past that thing?" Bai-Lin looked ready to have an absolute panic attack.

"Hey! Don't be a damn coward, Ensign. There may be another way out back that way and there's no guarantee the thing is still there. If you're gonna learn anything about being in Starfleet, it's that you don't roll-over and admit defeat just because your first option doesn't turn out so hot, got it? Now straighten up! Damn, you act like it's your first time in space, kid." Aaron berated.

Bai-Lin bit his lower lip and Aaron's eyes widened, "Oh hell, it IS your first time, isn't it? Shit."

"Sir, boarding the Seneca a month ago was my first assignment. I've been on Earth my whole life…" the ensign replied weakly, looking back down the hallway from where they'd come.

"Great. I get kidnapped and my only company is some wet-behind-the ears decoder? Well this day is turning out just peachy," Aaron pinched his sinuses, "Oh well. C'mon kid, we're going."

The polyglot hybrid couldn't hide the small flush of shame that was creeping its way up his neck, but he didn't try to retort as they walked. He knew very well how inexperienced he was and he was too passive a person to offer up an argument. Great, the one time when it came to show his mettle and he choked like a high-school kid on a first date. After the kidnapping, the monsters in the dark and the frantic running through a ship that didn't make a lick of sense Bai-Lin was beginning to agree with Aaron Hill's assessment about the day.

Their feet echoed in the hallway as they walked, stopping before each door to make sure it wouldn't close up on them. The two didn't talk as they went and the silence stretched between them, long and uncomfortable. It made Aaron even more grumpy, made him prone to grumbling just to fill up the silence and it made Bai-Lin jumpy, his heart stuttering in his chest every time he thought he heard something. It was unpleasant going and it only got worse the closer they brought themselves back to the room where they had originally been left. Neither of them really wanted to go any further, but by now both of them understood the necessity of it. It didn't make it one iota more pleasant of an option, though, not by a long shot.

Right in front of the door, Aaron stopped short, "Hey kid."

Bai-Lin looked up at him, blinking and the Commander continued, "You know, charging that THING back there…was actually pretty bold. It was reckless and stupid as hell…but bold."

"…Thankyou, Commander…"

"Don't mention it, brat," Aaron said, feeling a little bit less awkward now.

As the men stood in front of the door, footsteps other than their own, those from before, began to echo down the hall from the opposite direction. It seemed that, when they had gone one way, whatever-it-was had gone the other. Aaron tensed visibly, his hand itching for the comfortable weight of a phaser while Bai-Lin gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to take a frightened step back. They watched as that same baleful shadow melted out of the darkness beyond once more. The only difference this time is that they knew it was coming and they didn't have anywhere to go. All they had to do now was to brace themselves and wait.

"It is good that I have found you. After you ran away, we had feared you would become lost in the ship," the voice that came from the 'creature' had a deceptively pleasant, though tinny, timbre to it.

Aaron narrowed his eyes, "And who is 'we' exactly?"

"The Doctor and his son," said the creature.

As they spoke, the thing grew ever closer until, at last, the shadows faded and exposed the monster for what it really was. Bai-Lin was relieved to find that the creature did not look so monstrous in the light. As a matter of fact it looked almost human. It had skin so pale that it was paper white with no other pigment to speak of and hair the same color hanging down to its shoulders. Its eyes were bright silver with no pupils to mar the bright, metallic expanse and its features were decidedly androgynous. It wore a simple tunic and equally simple pants, boots on his feet. There was something almost terran about the creature except for the unearthly neutrality in its eyes and the odd metal circle on its left temple. Wires stuck out of the circle, trailing around to the back of the thing's neck. Aaron could only stare.

When the Commander spoke it was with great trepidation, "…and which one would you be?"

"I am neither the Doctor nor his Son."

"Well, when I asked for 'we', I kind of meant EVERYONE."

"This unit is called Algernon 13."

Aaron looked quizzically at the strange being and then at Bai-Lin, noting that the kid looked just about as stumped as he was. If Algernon 13 noticed their confusion, he didn't say anything or even react. It just stood there, head canted over to the side as it watched the two federation men. If anything, it only seemed curious.

"Come along. The Doctor is expecting both of you," Algernon 13 said in that peculiar, tin-sounding voice.

First Officer and Ensign both looked at each other, apprehension and doubt written plainly in their faces before they started following Algernon 13 down the opposite hallway. They didn't pause nor were they granted any stops as they wound through the labyrinthine ship they found themselves on. They passed doorways and openings, strange lumbering machinations and eerie shadows as they went, the minutes passing without anything but the strange tick-tick of the ship to measure them. Neither of the men bothered to talk to their guide or to one another. All they really could do was exactly what they were told. It wasn't a comforting notion.

Eventually, the long hallway came to a stop just in front of a massive door and Algernon 13 walked away from his 'guests'. He went to the door and, instead of finding a keypad there, Aaron was surprised to note that Algernon 13 began to pull a system of levers and chains. It raised a cacophonous noise in the hallway that had Bai-Lin covering his sensitive ears, wincing as a great grinding added to the din. The giant door in front of them began to rotate outward, the sections of it drawing away from one another like a colossal shutter on an ancient camera. Muted concern turned into awe at the display, Aaron and Bai-Lin utterly mesmerized by the motion until the room beyond was exposed to their marveling eyes.

"Where are we…?" Bai-Lin asked, taking a step forward.

Aaron followed him, looking in on the room, "I don't know, kid...but it's beyond anything I've ever seen before."

The room beyond the door was amazing in scope and appointment, dominated in the center by a rotating hologram of something that could have only been the universe. Small balls of generated light swooped together in their orbits, mimicking the rotations of entire galaxies. In the sphere, stars went supernova like the bright lights of a sudden candle before winking out, never to be seen again. New orbits were made as old ones were consumed by the dance of the cosmos, the entire vision dancing above a round projector settled deep into the floor. Chairs sat all around it, Victorian in make and far older than anything either of the Seneca men had ever seen in their lives. Velvet curtains draped the walls and standing before the whirling dervish of the universe there was a figure.

It was an aging man his hair gone solid white and thinning back past the dome of his skull. He wore a simple tunic just like Algernon 13 and his arms were folded comfortably behind his back.

Algernon 13 motioned them inside, "The Doctor has anticipated your visit."

The old man turned as his guests stepped past the door and into his study. His smile was warm and his eyes were solid white. The lines on his face were etched by the weight of years and great time, of experiences beyond the reckoning of mortal men. He looked human, sure enough, but Aaron and Bai-Lin had the feeling that this man was no more human than Algernon 13 was.

"Ah, 13, I see you have managed to find them. Welcome gentlemen," his voice was deep and rich and wise.

Aaron's eyes swept the room and its components in wonder, "Where are we?"

"Well, this is my observatory. As I travel the worlds, I record what I see and it is all stored here in the hologram you are now watching," the man replied.

"Wait…you've seen all of this? Sir, if that is true, then you must be phenomenally old…there are whole systems forming in that thing…" Bai-Lin breathed.

The elderly being chuckled, "I prefer the term 'Veteran' young man…but I did not bring you here to discuss semantics."

"Then why did you bring us here?" Aaron inquired.

"You are here entirely on accident thanks to your heroics. I had only meant to bring the boy, but when you perceived that he was in danger, you leapt into my influence and you were taken with him. However, despite the accident, I find that I am supremely gratified to find that you are present. I can feel the familiarity in you when you look upon my little world," the man said.

"World? So…this is…a planet?"

"A ship of the ages, gentlemen," the elderly being said with a smile.

Aaron straightened his back, "What do you want with Ensign Bai-Ling?"

"This is all done at the behest of my son. Hundreds of years ago, my quests brought me near to Earth where I discovered a young inventor and found his mind as hopeful and long-lived as mine. I bestowed upon him the gift of longevity that he might live to see his dreams to fruition. I called him my son. Through the years, he has endeavored to further his creations to a point where they might achieve life as well," the being narrated.

"Algernon 13 is such a being. He is perhaps the most perfect synthetic being my son has yet to create and my child believes that it is time for our grandson to mature. The next stage of his learning will come from leaving the womb and journeying out into the galaxies beyond."

"That still doesn't explain what Bai-Lin has to do with this," Aaron said as politely as he could manage, his accent thick.

The being known as the Doctor smiled indulgently, "Despite his age, my son is still a man of his times. He wanted something familiar to immerse his creation in. Your ship chose not to attack us despite the consternation I clearly sensed from you. You are a peaceful people. Beyond that, your young Communications Officer understands two of the most basic languages of Algernon 13's kind. He shows a capacity for compassion and learning just as you demonstrate a great capacity for the world of machines. This is why I am gratified that you were taken as well. It has given us the proof we need to say with certainty that you deserve this task."

Bai-Lin's green eyes were huge, "Wait, you're giving him to us?"

"You kidnapped us to ask us to be nannies?" Aaron added, sounding shocked.

"I commandeered both of you in order to entrust you with the advent of a new kind of lifeform. You are both men of the military. Consider it…a mission from a higher power," The entity smiled once more, wider this time.

"I don't understand. Other androids have been built and discovered. Captain James Kirk of the Enterprise has reported their existence on Exo III," Aaron reminded.

"It is true that other engineered creatures exist on other worlds and I have seen them…but you truly cannot call them life forms. They are programmed creatures who typically lack the capability to do anything but obey."

"So…this Algernon 13…he has no programming?" Aaron scoffed, "He'll be terrified, out of control and utterly without boundaries once he's off this craft!"

"Aren't all children when they first learn of the world?" The being replied with infinite calm, "His programming is the same as any human child's. His programming with spring from what he learns. His boundaries will be taught to him, not hard-wired into a system."

"Shit…you guys are really serious about all this?" Aaron sighed, flopping down into a chair while the Entity watched in amusement.

Meanwhile, Bai-Lin had taken in the entire room with great, curious strides, making it from one end to the other while the two debated. Halfway through his trek at the far end, he discovered that Algernon 13 had come in at some point while they were distracted. He was standing on his own and actually looking…somewhat shy. It was an expression that Bai-Lin recognized and was familiar with himself, so he stepped closer to the android. The half-Bajoran was no great scientist nor was he an engineer of any sort so he had no idea how one approached an android. Instead, he simply approached him as he would any other person, putting on a small, timid smile and clearing his throat.

"I…my name is Bai-Lin." He tried softly.

The android turned to look at him with those bright silver eyes, "I am Gerri."

The linguist blinked, "The Doctor called you Algernon 13 just a moment ago."

"Algernon 13 is this unit's designated name…but…this unit prefers Gerri. It seems easier to say…" The android replied, its face twisting into something that looked like chagrin.

Bai-Lin was touched by that little gesture that seemed so human from a creature that was only a pale fabrication, "Well…if you're going to try and be more human…try using singular pronouns. You know…like…'I', 'Me', 'He' and 'She'. That's how humans talk about themselves."

"I am sorry, but what do the designations 'he' and 'she' imply?"

"Well…that's gender. All humans have one. It's the difference between male and female," the blushing ensign tried to explain.

Gerri blinked, "And what designation does one use when one is without gender?"

"You…don't have a gender?" Bai-Lin's blush grew hotter.

"I have been left without one until such time I can make my own decision," the android replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It looked a little bit unsure, though…as if perhaps this was not the right answer.

Bai-Lin's kind smile was reassuring, "Then…I think we can settle for just calling you Gerrie for now. We'll figure out a designation later."

The Being watched their exchange quietly despite the distance, stopping his conversation with Aaron in order to overhear with a smile. He shook his head quietly and looked pleased with what he had heard. He noted that the First Officer still looked confused and a little bit lost. It was still as amusing now as it had been before. The Being laughed.

"You needn't look so very put out over all this, Commander. As I understand, your ship is still in need of a Chief Engineer. I assure that, while social matters elude my grandchild, it is still very well versed in the matters of technology. It has learned over the years to repair itself whenever it finds the need," the Being assured him.

"Look…how long are we going to have it?" Aaron asked, still dumbfounded.

"Algernon 13 shall remain under the care of the children of this universe until such time that either its training is complete or we deem that its training can go no further. Consider it an adopted foundling of your own kind," The Being illustrated.

The Commander rubbed his sinuses once more, "And you really think that we're up for this?"

"The crewmen of the USS Seneca are arbiters of peace and diplomacy. From you I believe Algernon 13 will learn only the most positive traits inherent in the many species of your universe. So yes, in your human colloquialism, I do believe that you are, in fact, 'up for this'."

"Excuse me for saying so, but this is all still confusing as hell. This ship doesn't even seem to have any manner of forward locomotion as far as my scanners back on the Seneca could tell! You latched onto us with magnetism! It's all so primitive and yet as I can see you're probably the most advanced life form we've ever encountered. How does all of this work?" Aaron threw up his hands in frustration.

"Every mechanization you see on this craft is an adaptation of what my son once knew…gears and magnets brought into the 23rd century. As for our means of propulsion, Aaron Hill, have you not considered that it is BECAUSE I am an advanced life form that this ship may move? That it is my willpower coupled deftly with my son's archaic dreams and inventions that keep this vessel soaring through the vault of your universe?" The Being actually laughed this time, ever good-natured.

"…Well shit," Aaron intimated eloquently.

"For now, however, Commander, it is time to return you to your vessel with your new ward. You have your mission and I trust you to see it through…you and Ensign Bai-Lin both," The Entity spoke.

"You going to point us to a transporter or something?"

"If you will forgive my saying so, I am not overly fond of your rudimentary human invention. I prefer to do things in my own way. Algernon 13, please bring the Ensign over. It is time for you to return to your ship."

Bai-Lin looked up curiously as the android's powerful hand wrapped around his bicep, bringing him back towards the hologram with its myriad of colors and revolving evolutions. There was a real, crippling power in that grip and it suddenly sunk in for the Ensign that he would have to be counseled on this as well. This WAS a child that they had on their hands…but it was one with a possibility for remarkable destruction if it was given the wrong tutoring in the years to come. He suddenly felt very small when he realized the outcome of this android's 'life' rested solely on the crew of the Seneca. Was this what it felt like to be a parent? If so, the hybrid wondered why so many people every day sought to endure it!

Aaron stood up and walked over to be next to the young crewman, almost feeling his responsibility, but still unable to fully comprehend. He was a man who knew machines and to him this Algernon 13 was a machine. The albatross that the neophyte space explorer knew was something that Aaron himself couldn't fathom simply because this thing did not feel like a child to him…just another machine to be maintained. However, he had to admit to himself that it was a wonderfully articulated machine and it would likely be a pleasure to tend to its upkeep.

Therein lay the beauty of the Being's reason.

As the main caretakers of his only grandchild he had brought together emotion and analysis…one who would see to the morality and ethical maturity of Algernon 13 and one who would safeguard its systems. In essence, he had united for the android the mentality of mother and father to give balance to its growth. True, the creatures he had chosen would hardly understand this revelation, but they didn't need to. All that needed to happen now was the natural progression of self as it was encompassed by the two radically different creatures and for that progression to benignly imprint on Algernon 13. All was as it should be.

Quite pleased with the choice of 'parental supervision' The Being had given its grandchild, he allowed the three to experience the same uneasy teleportation from before. Aaron was pretty sure that this was ten times worse than a normal beam-up and Bai-Lin felt the distinct urge to vomit on the Commander's shoes (he refrained, of course, because he felt it would be improper to throw up on a superior officer's garments…and because, in this state, he wasn't entirely sure there WERE shoes anymore). As they faded away, the Being smiled to himself again and settled into a chair before the holographic universe, watching as another galaxy gave birth.

~***~

When the three hit the Bridge again it was only Gerrie who remained upright. The other two collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs on the metal decking, graceless after the strange teleport.

Joseph's face brightened when he saw his two officers, "Hill! Bai-Lin!"

"Yeah yeah we're back. Zoe didn't come?" Aaron asked, feeling a little put out that the CMO hadn't come to the Bridge to wait for his return.

"We…we haven't had time to contact her," Captain Hart looked baffled.

Leila looked up at him, "Commander, you have only been gone for five point two seconds. We have not even had time to sound alarms."

Bai-Lin looked mystified and Aaron swore, "The old bastard must have opened a temporal rift before he sent us back to the Seneca! You're trying to tell me that all that bullshit only took us less than six seconds?"

"Should we be on guard, Aaron?" Captain Hart asked direly.

"No captain!" Bai-Lin interrupted, "Its mission is peaceful."

The tall, statuesque captain snapped his head over to regard the Ensign who had spoken sharply to him, only then noticing the android that stood between Aaron Hill and Bai-Lin Jiang, "Who might this be?"

"That," Aaron drawled, relaxing, "is your new Chief of Engineering, Captain. It calls itself Gerri and apparently, Ensign Bai-Lin and I are supposed to be taking care of it. Hell, we all are. Welcome to parenthood, gentlemen."

"What exactly went on over there, Ensign?" The Captain asked, watching as the strange ship pulled away from their viewer, retreating.

The First Officer cut in smoothly, "Kid's had enough for today, Joe. Why don't you let him go settle Gerri into some quarters and I'll explain everything to you and Lenny-Boy over your usual game of cards tonight?"

Joseph considered for a moment, his eyebrows pulling down into a sharp 'v' as he steepled his fingers, "You both realize that this is highly irregular."

"When isn't it, Captain?"

"You have a point, Aaron. You do, in fact, have a point."

~***~

The night-cycle of the ship started with the lowering of the lights. Afterwards, Relief Officers appeared to take over stations on the Bridge, giving their usual occupants time to sleep and relax after long shifts. Higher Officers departed to discuss the matters of the day (bickering the details out over a playful game of cards in the case of the Seneca's Captain, Commander and resident Xenovirologist) or to take care of small things they were forced to neglect while they were required to tend to their duties. Bai-Lin and Gerri fell into the last category, both sitting alone in the latter's barren new quarters. The Captain had seen to it that Gerri received at least a minor commission on the ship for now although it had taken him some careful maneuvering with Starfleet to get it.

Bai-Lin sat on Gerri's bed, watching the Android, "So…you honestly don't remember where you came from?"

"No…I'm scared," Gerri said, clutching to itself like a child.

Apparently, along with the temporal inconstancies, the Being had also chosen to erase all memories of Gerri's time aboard the clockwork vessel. Bai-Lin could only reason that it was to ensure a more normal period of mental growth…to lessen the perception of Gerri's robotic nature. If it could not recall where it had come from then reasonably it also would not recall details of activation or even the nature of its being. Of course, Gerri would know it was different…that it was most assuredly not human…but then again, humans seemed to be reaching a spot in the minority these days, so perhaps that wouldn't be a hindrance after all. Essentially, what the Seneca had now was a mechanical prodigy with the technological knowledge of a university graduate but all the mental maturity of a child. Gerri was brilliant, but undeveloped.

Bai-Lin smiled and held a blanket out for the frightened android to hold, "Just so you know, it's alright to be a little bit scared, but you shouldn't focus on it. All you need to know now is that the Seneca is your family and you're one of our crew."

Gerri's silver eyes gleamed in the near-darkness, "Is the Seneca a good family?"

"I haven't been with them long enough to tell you for sure, but I think they are. They do their best to protect their own and you're one of us now," Bai-Lin tried his best to sound reassuring, to sound like he remembered his mother or his father sounding when he was scared.

"Protected. It is a good word, Bai-Lin," Gerri said.

"It is, isn't it? I like it. You know, that's what the Seneca does, right? It protects people."

"How do we do that?" Gerri asked with wide eyes, leaning forward with the blanket hugged to its narrow chest.

Bai-Lin was sure about that answer, "We stand up when other people don't have the strength to do it themselves."

"That…makes me feel good inside…is that right?" Gerri asked as it lay down on its bed, looking up at its 'mother' expectantly.

Bai-Lin smiled and ran a hand over the android's white hair, "It's a pretty good start, Gerri. As a matter of fact…it's the best start I could have hoped for."

~***~

So ends Chapter Five of our story and the shortest chapter so far. For anyone who isn't familiar with the Star Trek series (don't know why you'd be reading this if you weren't, but still…), my story is attempting to mimic the style of the Original Series, circa 1966. Often times, the episodes would be vignettes that could be told in any order…each episode was its own adventure that could be told almost completely by itself. They reflected the spirit of the age: young, imaginative, hopeful, bold and often imbued with a sense of dashing chivalry. Since the Original Series is the one that is closest to my heart, I have been attempting to replicate its unique style here while giving it my own natural flavor. Hopefully this turns out to be as fun of an homage to Gene Roddenberry's work for all of my readers as it is for me!


End file.
